Disclosure
by Thunderbird0106
Summary: Sequel to Decisions. Another year, with new secrets, new adventures... new threats?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Though it's pretty obvious, I still say, I do not own any of the characters and any parts of the plot you recognize as canon. They belong to the genius, JKR.**

CHAPTER 1

Harry woke up in his bedroom in his home at Godric's Hollow. It was on the opposite side of the square and his parents' house. He had visited the Potter house and the graveyard with Professor McGonagall. The professors had visited him whenever they could manage. Professor Sprout, though she kept insisting that Harry call him Pomona, was staying with him to set up a greenhouse with some important potion ingredients. Today someone else was to come and stay with him for the day. Professor Sprout wanted to visit the Amazons for some rare seeds and pods.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. His bedroom was similar to the one at Spinners' end. The house had one more room, where the professors were staying in turns and a library on the first floor. The living room, kitchen and dining hall was at the ground floor. Harry planned to add a potion lab, but Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at that and Harry decided not to press the matter for now. Rosy, a house-elf from Hogwarts was assigned to take care of Harry and she brought breakfast as soon as Harry came to the dining hall for breakfast.

"Good morning, Pomona."

She greeted back with a smile. Sitting beside her… Harry's eyes lit up, "Good morning, S-Professor."

Snape merely nodded, though Harry could see his scowl softening.

"Come on, Harry." Pomona said, "You're not in school. I'm sure Severus won't mind." She gave Snape a look, who scowled back at her. Harry grinned.

"Well, I must be off then. Harry, stay away from the far end of the greenhouse. They are the carnivorous ones and I've prepared them to stay unattended for a few weeks. I've locked them in a section and you'll only enter when accompanied by me. Is that clear?"

"Yes ma'am, have a happy tour."

"Thank you my boy. Take care. Goodbye Severus."

"Goodbye Pomona."

With that, she moved outside the cottage boundary and disapparated with a crack.

They finished their serials and bacon in silence.

"Um, Severus." Harry broke the silence, "What are we going to do today?"

Snape raised an eyebrow, "What makes you think that we're going to do something specific today?"

"Uh, nothing. I can read in my room, I guess."

"As it happens, I was thinking maybe you'd like to visit Diagon Alley today? I have some business there."

"Oh yes. I'd like to visit Flourish and Blotts, and a sundae at Florean's won't be bad I suppose."

"Hmmm, let's go then."

Snape apparated them directly into the Alley. They visited the apothecary, Flourish and Blotts and enjoyed chocolate-walnut sundae at Florean's, their tables laden with books and potion ingredients.

Severus broke the silence this time, "We are visiting muggle London next."

"Muggle London? What for?"

"We are having lunch there and we have some – ah, business there."

"WE have some business?"Harry raised an eyebrow, imitating Snape perfectly.

Snape scowled in response, "You'll see."

As promised, they left through Leaky Cauldron and to Harry's surprise, Snape led him to an optician's.

"Wha-"

"When was the last time you had your eyes checked?"Snape asked impatiently.

"I- I don't remember."

"Allow me then." He opened the door and led Harry inside.

They waited outside for their turn. "Since when do you need glasses, Harry?" Severus asked once they were seated, away from others by a few seats.

"Since I started school." Harry replied, equally quiet.

"And your eyes haven't been checked up since then?"

Harry shook his head.

Severus sighed, "There are potions to improve eyesight. But they work for hours at most. We too need to use glasses to aid our vision. But most of the wizarding world are oblivious to the progress in science the muggles are making. And glasses are disadvantageous for you, I suggest you use contacts."

"I hadn't thought of that. I guess, I couldn't do anything even if I did. I had no money then… how many time Dudley had broken my glasses…" Harry muttered to himself.

Suddenly he had an idea, "Can I get more than one pair and colored ones?"

Severus raised one eyebrow, "And what would you do with them?"

"It's just that my eyes stand out too much. Blue or brown ones are much more common."

Severus understood, "Hmmm, that can be arranged."

Half an hour later, Harry dragged a disgruntled Severus to a multiplex to buy some concealer and hair gel. They returned home after a quick lunch at McDonalds'.

Back at Godric's Hollow, they spent a peaceful evening going through the books they bought and arranging them in the library according to the subjects. Severus admired the books there, while nowhere near his own collections, they were pretty advanced for a twelve year old. He spied some books on mind magic. What was Harry doing with such advanced books? He brought the topic up at dinner.

"They looked interesting, so I bought them." Harry said nonchalantly, while munching on his cheese and ham sandwich. But Severus thought he saw something calculating in his gaze. Sometimes Harry doesn't seem twelve, he mused.

The next morning, Severus helped Harry establish a temporary potion worktable in the library. They brewed two of the potions they were supposed to cover in second year. Harry had made them before in the chamber. But Severus always had something of his own to add. Be it a tip to prepare the ingredients better or an alteration to the quantity of them. Harry never got bored to brew a potion with Severus even when they reviewed the most basic potions.

Severus spent the week with Harry, and though he will never admit this to anyone, he enjoyed the stay just as much as Harry did.

Harry was sitting in the window with Hedwig on his side and Zudissa curling on his arm. They had come to a friendly terms as far as Harry could see. They were having time of their life hunting for rats in the grounds. He scratched Hedwig's ears, she gave her an affectionate nip on his finger. They were basking in the sun. Zudissa hissed in contentment. "Come on, who wants to fly?" Harry smiled. Hedwig gave him an approving hoot.

"You should wait for one of your professors to come." Zudissa said gravely.

"Oh, come on Zudi, I'm tired of them babysitting me all the time. What can go wrong? I'll be riding my Nimbus 2000."

Zudissa sighed in exasperation, "Stupid boy." She muttered. Harry grinned.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

He was writing to his friends at breakfast. The professors were busy, hence unable to stay with him. Dumbledore wanted Harry to come stay at Hogwarts. But Harry, enjoying his freedom too much, refused him outright.

His friends had been writing to him. Ron had invited him to come stay at the burrow. Draco wrote too, but he seemed oddly hesitant about inviting him. Hermione wrote all about homework. He wrote back to all of them. He thanked Ron, but declined his offer politely stating some non-existent plans with his non-existent relatives. Draco forbade sending Hedwig for some reason, instead his beautiful eagle owl waited to carry his reply. Hedwig refused to speak to him for hours after each incident like that. She was oddly possessive about every letter Harry wrote.

This morning at breakfast an owl came swooping down, Harry recognized it as one of the school owls with his Hogwarts letter. It told him to catch the Hogwarts Express as usual from King's Cross station on September first. There was also a list of the new books he'd need for the coming year.

_SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE: _

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2by Miranda Goshawk _

_Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart _

_Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart _

_Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart _

_43 Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart _

_Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart _

_Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart _

_Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart _…

Harry stared, who would assign such a booklist? SEVEN books for DADA alone!

He sat to write to his friends. Maybe we could all meet at Alley for the shopping… I wonder who's going to accompany me this time…


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I forgot to tell you last chapter, the underlined dialogues are in Parseltongue. I'm missing the feedback of my readers who had followed **_**Decisions**_** till the end. Hey friends, are you there?**

CHAPTER 2

Harry woke up with the first ray of sun. He was going to Diagon Alley today. Ron, Hermione and Draco had agreed to meet him there. But Neville said something about his gran. The poor boy was mortally afraid of his grandmother. Apparently she was also disappointed at him being sorted into Hufflepuff. Harry could not understand how people can underestimate Hufflepuffs after seeing Amelia Bones. Harry hadn't met her yet, but Severus held a high opinion of her.

Today Hagrid was to accompany him. But he hadn't come yet. So Harry thanked rosy, much to her embarrassment, and started with his bacon and coffee. A few minutes after he finished, a loud crash sounded outside the gate. Harry peered out the window. There he was, Hagrid riding on an enormous bike. Harry watched amazed as Hagrid opened the gate and entered the house.

"'Ello Harry! How are yeh?"

"I'm fine Hagrid, thanks. Would you like some tea?"

"Oh yeah, tha' would be nice."

Harry served him tea, then said, "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine no worries. I jus' need some flesh eating slug repellent, they are ruinin' the cabbages."

"So you have business in Diagon Alley then?" damn, I thought I could sneak out. "Nice bike by the way."

"They don' sell 'em at Diagon Alley. I migh' have ter, er, look aroun' a bit." Hagrid looked uneasy.

"Anyway, you'll be travelin' with floo powder today. I'll be followin' later. There ain't no fireplace ter transport me."

He pulled out a sack from one of his many pockets of his coat. "Now, this is floo powder." He took a pinch of glittering powder out of the sack, stepped up to the fire, and threw the powder into the flames.

With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than Harry, "Now all yeh have ter do is step inside the fire and shout, 'Diagon Alley!'" but he wasn't satisfied.

"Yeh must speak clearly, 'Arry, and be sure to get out at the right grate…"

"The right what?" said Harry nervously, this was his first time in this kind of transport. Why couldn't Severus or McGonagall come?

"Well, there are an awful lot o' wizard fires ter choose from, yeh know, but as long as ye've spoken clearly —"

"I'll be fine, Hagrid, don't fuss," huffed Harry, helping himself to Floo powder too.

"Now, when yeh get into the fire, say where ye're goin'. And keep your elbows tucked in, and your eyes shut. The soot might be a nuisance. Don't fidget, or you might well fall out of the wrong fireplace —.But don't panic and get out too early; wait until you see the leaky Cauldron."

"Hagrid!"

"Alrigh', alrigh', off yeh go then."

Trying hard to bear all this in mind, Harry took a pinch of Floo powder and walked to the edge of the fire. He took a deep breath, scattered the powder into the flames, and stepped forward; the fire felt like a warm breeze; he opened his mouth and immediately swallowed a lot of hot ash.

"D-Dia-gon Alley," he coughed.

It felt as though he was being sucked down a giant drain. He seemed to be spinning very fast — the roaring in his ears was deafening — he tried to keep his eyes open but the whirl of green flames made him feel sick —something hard knocked his elbow and he tucked it in tightly, still spinning and spinning — now it felt as though cold hands were slapping his face — squinting through his glasses he saw a blurred stream of fireplaces and snatched glimpses of the rooms beyond — his bacon sandwiches were churning inside him — he closed his eyes again wishing it would stop, and then_… _

He fell, face forward, onto cold stone.

Dizzy and bruised, covered in soot, he got gingerly to his feet. He was quite alone, but where he was, he had no idea. All he could tell was that he was standing in the stone fireplace of what looked like a large, dimly lit wizard's shop — but nothing in here was ever likely to be on a Hogwarts school list.

A glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a bloodstained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks stared down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lay upon the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. And the dark, narrow street Harry could see through the dusty shop window was definitely not Diagon Alley.

Well, he was definitely somewhere he was not supposed to be. But who said he couldn't explore a bit? He could always see around a bit, and when the shop-owner came, he could tell he arrived by floo and was browsing a bit. It was not as if it was a crime to see these objects or anything.

Harry made his way swiftly and silently toward the door, but before he'd got halfway toward it, two people appeared on the other side of the glass — and one of them was the very last person Harry wanted to meet when he was lost, covered in soot, and wearing broken glasses: Draco Malfoy. He was always so prim and proper; Harry would be teased throughout the year. But Draco looked up and straight into Harry's eyes. And his entire demeanor changed. His normal arrogant and bored expression morphed into one of horrorstruck disbelief. Harry frowned, what's wrong with him? Draco gestured him to hide, his eyes almost frantic.

Harry looked quickly around and spotted a large black cabinet to his left; he shot inside it and pulled the doors closed, leaving a small crack to peer through. Seconds later, a bell clanged, and Draco stepped into the shop.

The man who followed could only be Draco's father. He had the same pale, pointed face and identical cold, gray eyes. Mr. Malfoy crossed the shop, looking lazily at the items on display, and rang a bell on the counter before turning to his son and saying, "Touch nothing, Draco."

Draco recovered his attitude, who had reached for the glass eye, said, "I thought you were going to buy me a present."

"I said I would buy you a racing broom," said his father, drumming his fingers on the counter.

"What's the good of that if I'm not on the House team?" said Draco, looking sulky and bad-tempered. "Harry Potter got his position secured for the seeker this year, everyone says so. He's not even that good, it's just because he's _famous…_famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead…" He sent Harry an apologetic look, then bent down to examine a shelf full of skulls.

"…everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful _Potter _with his _scar _and his _broomstick _—"

"You have told me this at least a dozen times already," said Mr. Malfoy, with a quelling look at his son. "And I would remind you that it is not — prudent — to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear — ah, Mr. Borgin."

A stooping man had appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face.

"Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again," said Mr. Borgin in a voice as oily as his hair. "Delighted — and young Master Malfoy, too — charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced —"

"I'm not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling," said Mr. Malfoy.

"Selling?" The smile faded slightly from Mr. Borgin's face.

"You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids," said Mr. Malfoy, taking a roll of parchment from his inside pocket and unraveling it for Mr. Borgin to read. "I have a few — ah — items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call…"

Mr. Borgin fixed a pair of pince-nez to his nose and looked down the list.

"The Ministry wouldn't presume to trouble you, sir, surely?"

Mr. Malfoy's lip curled.

"I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act — no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it —"

Harry frowned, so Ron was right about Mr. Malfoy, though that doesn't excuse the attitude he had towards Draco the first time they met.

"— and as you see, certain of these poisons might make it appear —"

"I understand, sir, of course," said Mr. Borgin. "Let me see…"

"Can I have _that_?" interrupted Draco, pointing at the withered hand on its cushion.

"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" said Mr. Borgin, abandoning Mr. Malfoy's list and scurrying over to Draco. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir."

"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin," said Mr. Malfoy coldly, and Mr. Borgin said quickly, "No offense, sir, no offense meant —"

"Though if his grades don't pick up," said Mr. Malfoy, more coldly still, "that may indeed be all he is fit for —"

"It's not my fault," retorted Draco. "The teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger —" another apologetic look for Harry.

"I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam," snapped Mr. Malfoy.

"Ha!" said Harry under his breath, pleased to see Draco looking both abashed and angry.

"It's the same all over," said Mr. Borgin, in his oily voice. "Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere —"

"Not with me," said Mr. Malfoy, his long nostrils flaring.

"No, sir, nor with me, sir," said Mr. Borgin, with a deep bow.

"In that case, perhaps we can return to my list," said Mr. Malfoy shortly. "I am in something of a hurry, Borgin, I have important business elsewhere today —"

They started to haggle. Harry watched nervously as Draco drew nearer and nearer to his hiding place, examining the objects for sale, what are you doing Draco, you'll give us away. But Draco seemed to be trying to tell him something. Draco paused to examine a long coil of hangman's rope and to read, smirking, the card propped on a magnificent necklace of opals, _Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed — Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date. _

Draco turned away to the cabinet right in front of him. He walked forward — he stretched out his hand for the handle "Done," said Mr. Malfoy at the counter. "Come, Draco —"

"Good day to you, Mr. Borgin. I'll expect you at the manor tomorrow to pick up the goods."

The moment the door had closed, Mr. Borgin dropped his oily manner.

"Good day yourself, _Mister _Malfoy, and if the stories are true, you haven't sold me half of what's hidden in your _manor_…"

Muttering darkly, Mr. Borgin disappeared into a back room. Harry waited for a minute in case he came back, then, quietly as he could, slipped out of the cabinet, past the glass cases, and out of the shop door.

Harry stared around. He had emerged into a dingy alleyway that seemed to be made up entirely of shops devoted to the Dark Arts. The one he'd just left, Borgin and Burkes, looked like the largest, but opposite was a nasty window display of shrunken heads and, two doors down, a large cage was alive with gigantic black spiders. Two shabby-looking wizards were watching him from the shadow of a doorway, muttering to each other. Feeling jumpy, Harry set off.

An old wooden street sign hanging over a shop selling poisonous candles told him he was in Knockturn Alley. This didn't help, as Harry had never heard of such a place. He supposed he hadn't spoken clearly enough through his mouthful of ashes back in the fire. Trying to stay calm, he wondered what to do. As much as he wanted to explore the place, Harry couldn't tell, it was not every day that a schoolboy came roaming around here on his own. He was attracting a lot of attention. He needed to get out of here.

"Not lost are you, my dear?" said a voice in his ear, making him jump.

An aged witch stood in front of him, holding a tray of what looked horribly like whole human fingernails. She leered at him, showing mossy teeth. Harry backed away.

"I'm fine, thanks," he said as casually as he could. "I'm just —"

"HARRY! What d'yeh think yer doin' down there?"

Harry's heart leapt. So did the witch; a load of fingernails cascaded down over her feet and she cursed as the massive form of Hagrid, the Hogwarts' gamekeeper, came striding toward them, beetle-black eyes flashing over his great bristling beard.

"Hagrid!" Harry croaked in relief. "I was lost — Floo powder —"

Hagrid seized Harry by the scruff of the neck and pulled him away from the witch, knocking the tray right out of her hands. Her shrieks followed them all the way along the twisting alleyway out into bright sunlight. Harry saw a familiar, snow-white marble building in the distance — Gringotts Bank. Hagrid had steered him right into Diagon Alley.

"Yer a mess!" said Hagrid gruffly, brushing soot off Harry so forcefully he nearly knocked him into a barrel of dragon dung outside an apothecary. "Skulkin' around Knockturn Alley, I dunno dodgy place, Harry — don' want no one ter see yeh down there —"

"I realized _that_," said Harry, ducking as Hagrid made to brush him off again. "I told you, I was lost."

They set off together down the street.

"Harry! Harry! Over here!"

Harry looked up and saw Hermione Granger standing at the top of the white flight of steps to Gringotts. She ran down to meet them, her bushy brown hair flying behind her.

"What happened to your glasses? Hello, Hagrid — Oh, it's _wonderful _to see you two again — Are you coming into Gringotts, Harry?"

"As soon as I've found Ron" said Harry. Doesn't seem like Draco will be joining us anytime soon, Harry thought, still pondering about his extremely odd behavior.

"Yeh won't have long ter wait," Hagrid said with a grin.

Harry and Hermione looked around: Sprinting up the crowded street were Ron, Fred and George, big grins plastered on their faces. "Mum, dad! Harry's here!" they shouted at once, earning a lot of attention, Harry huffed.

Mr. Weasley came and shook his hand excitedly and talked almost non-stop as they entered Gringotts, but he was distracted almost at once by the sight of Hermione's parents, who were standing nervously at the counter that ran all along the great marble hall, waiting for Hermione to introduce them.

"But you're _Muggles_!" said Mr. Weasley delightedly. "We must have a drink! What's that you've got there? Oh, you're changing Muggle money. Molly, look!" He pointed excitedly at the ten-pound notes in Mr. Granger's hand.

"Meet you back here," Ron said to Hermione as the Weasleys and Harry were led off to their underground vaults by another Gringotts goblin.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I checked my mail today after a long time, and I got overwhelmed at how many people added this fic in favorites and alerts. You guys are great.

Chapter 3

Just before going into the cart, Harry said, "Um, Mr. Weasley, why don't we take different carts? That way, it'd be faster."

"Of course Harry, why didn't I think that before?" Mr. Weasley said.

So they set out for their own breakneck journeys.

Back outside on the marble steps, they all separated. Percy muttered vaguely about needing a new quill. Fred and George had spotted their friend from Hogwarts, Lee Jordan. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were going to a secondhand robe shop. Mr. Weasley was insisting on taking the Grangers off to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink.

"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your schoolbooks," said Mrs. Weasley, setting off with Ginny. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!" she shouted at the twins' retreating backs.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione strolled off along the winding, cobbled street. The bag of gold, silver, and bronze jangling cheerfully in Harry's pocket was clamoring to be spent, so he bought three large strawberry-and-peanut-butter ice creams, which they slurped happily as they wandered up the alley, examining the fascinating shop windows. Ron gazed longingly at a full set of Chudley Cannon robes in the windows of Quality Quidditch Supplies until Hermione dragged them off to buy ink and parchment next door. In Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, they met Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, who were stocking up on Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks, and in a tiny junk shop full of broken wands, lopsided brass scales, and old cloaks covered in potion stains they found Percy, deeply immersed in a small and deeply boring book called _Prefects Who Gained Power_.

"_A study of Hogwarts prefects and their later careers," _Ron read aloud off the back cover. "That sounds _fascinating_…"

"Go away," Percy snapped.

"'Course, he's very ambitious, Percy, he's got it all planned out_…_He wants to be Minister of Magic…" Ron said, but Harry was paying only half his attention, his mind was puzzling over Draco's odd behavior. Why didn't he introduce me to his father? Is he still involved in the death-eater business?

An hour later, they headed for Flourish and Blotts. They were by no means the only ones making their way to the bookshop. As they approached it, they saw to their surprise a large crowd jostling outside the doors, trying to get in. The reason for this was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows:

_GILDEROY LOCKHART _

_will be signing copies of his autobiography _

_MAGICAL ME _

_today 12:30P. 4:30P.M. _

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!" Harry agreed, the books were impressive.

But he frowned when he noticed, the crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Mrs. Weasley's age. A harassed-looking wizard stood at the door, saying, "Calmly, please, ladies_…_Don't push, there_…_mind the books, now…"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione squeezed inside. A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. They each grabbed a copy of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 _and sneaked up the line to where the rest of the Weasleys were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Granger.

"Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Weasley. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair. "We'll be able to see him in a minute…" Harry gaped at her odd behavior, and goodness! She wasn't alone!

Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. The real Lockhart was wearing robes of forget-me-not blue that exactly matched his eyes; his pointed wizard's hat was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy hair.

A short, irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.

"Out of the way, there," he snarled at Ron, moving back to get a better shot. "This is for the _Daily Prophet _—"

"Big deal," said Ron, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.

Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He looked up. He saw Ron — and then he saw Harry. He stared. Then he leapt to his feet and positively shouted, "It _can't _be Harry Potter?"

"Oh bugger!" Harry ducked behind Ron and whispered, "Cover me up."

Ron was surprised, but didn't protest. Harry hastily slipped on a pair of brown contacts and rubbed some concealer on his scar. He straightened up, Lockhart looked utterly confused and disappointed. "I swear I saw him here." If the Weasleys were surprised, they didn't give him away. Ginny opened her mouth, but Mrs. Weasley covered her mouth with her hand.

"Let's get out of here." Harry whispered to Ron and Hermione. "You'll get my books signed. Won't you, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Of course, dear" she said immediately.

A few minutes later an angry looking Lucius Malfoy came out of the shop with Draco in tow. Right on cue, the Weasleys came out, both the elder Weasleys looking angry and flustered.

"Dad and Lucius Malfoy got into an argument." Fred whispered to them "Tongue like a blade, that man has, but I never knew dad could bite with words." Looked like he couldn't decide who to be more impressed with.

The end of the summer vacation came too quickly for Harry's liking. He was looking forward to getting back to Hogwarts, but he loved his cottage dearly.

He went to visit his parents the day before he was to leave for Hogwarts. Their house…

He could see it; the Fidelius Charm must have died with James and Lily. The hedge had grown wild in the sixteen years since Hagrid had taken Harry from the rubble that lay scattered amongst the waist-high grass. Most of the cottage was still standing, though entirely covered in dark ivy and snow, but the right side of the top floor had been blown apart; that, Harry was sure, was where the curse had backfired.

His touch on the gate seemed to have done it. A sign had risen out of the ground in front of them, up through the tangles of nettles and weeds, like some bizarre, fast-growing flower, and in golden letters upon the wood it said:

_On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family. _

And all around these neatly lettered words, scribbles had been added by other witches and wizards who had come to see the place where the Boy Who Lived had escaped. Some had merely signed their names in Everlasting Ink; others had carved their initials into the wood, still others had left messages. The most recent of these, shining brightly over sixteen years' worth of magical graffiti, all said similar things.

_Good luck, Harry wherever you are. _

_If you read this, Harry, we're all behind you! _

_Long live Harry Potter._

Harry sighed, he wished someone had repaired the house. He could have lived here, and imagined his parents were in the next room. Or maybe it'd have hurt more. But apparently it was a war memorial.

He opened the gate and gate creaked a little as he pushed it open. The door was left ajar. "Mum, dad, I'm home." He whispered. He was over the threshold, into the crammed hall, a pram was pushed against the wall. There was a stasis charm, he guessed. He sat on the sofa and leaned his head on the headrest.

"I'm going back to Hogwarts tomorrow, you know. I hope I don't have to see him again this year. Mum, is it wrong of me to be afraid of him? You know mum, Draco is behaving so odd lately. He hasn't written to me since we met in Diagon Alley. He seemed so scared of his father. Is it normal? Ron, Hermione are not afraid of their fathers. And Neville doesn't have one. But Neville can't do what he wants either. He always does what his gran says. Why is it so, dad? I don't think she understands Neville though. She wasn't happy when he got sorted into Hufflepuff, but loyalty and hardwork are important. Isn't it? I guess it's a parent thing. But Severus understands me somewhat, you know. Oh dad, I know you didn't get along well. But he was mum's best-friend right? Get over it already. Well, its lunchtime, I've got to go. Rosy will run to Dumbledore if I'm not there by lunch. I miss you." Harry sighed and stood up to return home.

After lunch he went to the graveyard. He crossed the war memorial. As he had passed it, it transformed. Instead of an obelisk covered in names, there was a statue of three people: a man with untidy hair and glasses, a woman with long hair and a kind, pretty face, and a baby boy sitting in his mother's arms.

Harry drew closer, gazing up into his parents' faces. How strange it was to see himself represented in stone, a happy baby without a scar on his forehead… he shook his head and moved on.

There was a kissing gate at the entrance to the graveyard. Behind the church, row upon row of snowy tombstones protruded from emerald green grass.

He passed some tombstones with familiar names upon it. One Abbott. And Dumbledore.

Harry stooped down and saw, upon the frozen, lichen-spotted granite, the words Kendra Dumbledore and, a short way down her dates of birth and death, and Her Daughter Ariana. There was also a quotation:

_Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also._

He will have to ask Dumbledore about it, Harry decided.

The headstone was only two rows behind Kendra and Ariana's. It was made of white marble. Harry did not need to kneel or even approach very close to it to make out the words engraved upon it.

_**JAMES POTTER LILY POTTER **_

_BORN 27 MARCH 1960 BORN 30 JANUARY 1960 _

_DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981 DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981 _

_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death. _

Harry read the words slowly, as though he would have only one chance to take in their meaning, and he read the last of them aloud.

He produced a single white lily for his mother and a single red rose for his father.

"Mum, dad, I love you."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I'm so embarrassed about the snow thing (puts head into her hands), sorry sorry sorry, I'll try not to repeat those blunders.

Chapter 4

A strong hand pressed on his shoulder in a firm but reassuring hold. Harry opened his eyes, another lily has joined its companion in front of Lily's grave. Harry looked up, black eyes met green.

"Harry"

"Severus" Harry stood up to walk with Severus.

"Tomorrow is the start of the term."

"Yes"

"Are you looking forward to it? I know for a fact that your homework is finished."

"Yes I've finished my homework. I'm looking forward to the new term. Though the defense teacher… is it true Gilderoy Lockhart is joining this year as the defense teacher?"

"Ah, yes unfortunately." Severus sighed dramatically, Harry's mouth turned up in a smile. "Why do you ask?"

"Well he doesn't seem so accomplished, does he? I mean all those books… I don't know that much about those beasts he writes about. But, it's just that I can't imagine him doing all those things."

"Hmmm, I have my doubts, of course. But we shouldn't badmouth a teacher. And this year no one else seemed kin on taking the job. So we had to- well let's just say he is all we could get. Come on, we'll have dinner and I'll apparate to Hogwarts after seeing you off to the platform."

The next morning Harry crossed the barrier to platform 93/4, with Severus waiting with his arms crossed. After Harry crossed safely on to the other side, he went into a deserted toilet booth and disapparated.

Harry dragged his trunk to a deserted compartment which was easy, since he was early. He passed Draco and his parents. He winked at Draco and got onto the train. Draco joined him only after his parents were gone.

"So Draco, what that was all about?"

"Um, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I don't think so. I know that though you saunter about the castle with Crabbe and Goyle as though they are attached to your backside" he ignored Draco's affronted look at that "but they are just not in your league. I'm your friend and I can tell when you are lying, when manipulating the truth and when you want to say something, but can't. Now spill."

"Harry, it's about my father. You know, he was- well, he- Harry please don't get angry- he was involved with- um"

"You-know-who. I know." Harry said impatiently.

"Yes- wait, WHAT? You- you knew? And- and still you became friends with me?" Draco's mouth dropped open.

"I knew, yes. You are not your father. Are you?"

"No, but-"

"Draco, you are changing the subject."

"Sorry, well, you see, he has a collection of dark artifacts in our manor. Some of them are so dangerous that they don't let me enter the hall and it's specially warded by father himself. Not even mother likes to go in the room."

"And it has something to do with your father, or the artifacts?"

"Ummm, both I think. There has been a scheme. I didn't get to hear the whole thing. But it has something to do with Hogwarts and the Weasleys. I guess father has done some arrangements to destroy the reputation of Mr. Weasley, Ron's father."

"But the only association he has with Hogwarts is through his children. So this is going to involve either Ron, or one of his siblings."

"I don't know what to do Harry, I don't want him to do anything bad. He is my dad, but I don't like many things he does."

"It's alright Draco, we'll figure something out."

"Harry! Draco!" Hermione had just run in. "Guess what!"

"That you finished all your Lockhart books?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Yes!"

"What a surprise!" Draco rolled his eyes.

"Oh, shut up!" Hermione turned pink.

Ron joined them soon after. With a meaningful look from Harry, Draco refrained from saying anything. Soon they were busy with chocolate frogs and pumpkin juice, dark prospects momentarily forgotten.

They got down onto the station, waved at Hagrid and join the older students to get onto a carriage. The carriage was horseless. No animal could be seen pulling the carriage. They found Neville and got a carriage all to themselves. Five of them squeezed into the carriage and chattered away. Neville timidly suggested that one of his descriptions regarding a plant might not be accurate but stopped immediately upon noticing Hermione's glare.

The great hall was as brilliant as ever. Innumerable candles were hovering in midair over four long, crowded tables, making the golden plates and goblets sparkle. Overhead, the bewitched ceiling, which always mirrored the sky outside, sparkled with stars.

Through the forest of pointed black Hogwarts hats, Harry saw a long line of scared-looking first years filing into the Hall. Ginny was among them, easily visible because of her vivid Weasley hair. Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall was placing the famous Hogwarts Sorting Hat on a stool before the newcomers.

Every year, this aged old hat, patched, frayed, and dirty, sorted new students into the four Hogwarts houses (Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin). Harry well remembered putting it on, exactly one year ago, and waiting, petrified, for its decision as it muttered aloud in his ear. Harry was fascinated by its magic. How it saw into pupils' minds…

A very small, mousy-haired boy had been called forward to place the hat on his head, Colin Creevey. Harry's eyes wandered past him to where Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, sat watching the Sorting from the staff table, his long silver beard and half-moon glasses shining brightly in the candlelight. Several seats along, Harry saw Gilderoy Lockhart, dressed in robes of aquamarine. And there at the end was Hagrid, huge and hairy, drinking deeply from his goblet. Severus was sitting sour faced beside Lockhart. Harry winced in sympathy, poor Severus. To no one's surprise Ginny Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor. She looked happily to all the students in the great hall, she locked eyes with Harry, blushed crimson, and ran to the Gryffindor table.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Next morning, Harry and Draco joined Hermione on their way to the greenhouses. As they neared the greenhouses they saw the rest of the class standing outside, waiting for Professor Sprout. Harry, Draco, and Hermione had only just joined them when she came striding into view across the lawn, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart. Professor Sprout's arms were full of bandages, and with another twinge of guilt, Harry spotted the Whomping Willow in the distance, several of its branches now in slings.

Professor Sprout wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair; there was usually a large amount of earth on her clothes and her fingernails. Gilderoy Lockhart, however, was immaculate in sweeping robes of turquoise, his golden hair shining under a perfectly positioned turquoise hat with gold trimming.

"Oh, hello there!" he called, beaming around at the assembled students. "Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is!-" Harry rolled his eyes, as if… "-I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels…"

"Greenhouse three today, chaps!" said Professor Sprout, who was looking distinctly disgruntled, not at all her usual cheerful self.

There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked in greenhouse one before — greenhouse three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. Harry caught a whiff of damp earth and fertilizer mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling from the ceiling.

Professor Sprout was standing behind a trestle bench in the center of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different-colored ear muffs were lying on the bench. When Harry had taken his place between Draco and Hermione, she said, "We'll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"

To nobody's surprise, Hermione's hand was first into the air.

"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," said Hermione, sounding as usual as though she had swallowed the textbook. "It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."

"Excellent. Ten points to Ravenclaw," said Professor Sprout. "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"

Hermione's hand narrowly missed Harry's glasses as it shot up again.

"The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it," she said promptly.

"Precisely. Take another ten points," said Professor Sprout. "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young."

She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in color, were growing there in rows. "Everyone take a pair of earmuffs," said Professor Sprout.

There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy.

"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are _completely _covered," said Professor Sprout. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right — earmuffs _on_."

Harry snapped the earmuffs over his ears. They shut out sound completely. Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.

Instead of roots, a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.

Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs.

"As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet," she said calmly as though she'd just done nothing more exciting than water a begonia. "However, they _will _knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.

"Four to a tray — there is a large supply of pots here — compost in the sacks over there — and be careful of the Venemous Tentacula, it's teething."

She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.

Harry, Draco, and Hermione were joined at their tray by a curly-haired Hufflepuff boy Harry knew by sight but had never spoken to.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said brightly, shaking Harry by the hand. "Know who you are, of course, the famous Harry Potter_…_And you're Hermione Granger — always top in everything" (Hermione beamed as she had her hand shaken too) "— and " he stuttered a bit "Draco Malfoy." Draco raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

"That Lockhart's something, isn't he?" said Justin happily as they began filling their plant pots with dragon dung compost. "Awfully brave chap. Have you read his books? I'd have died of fear if Id been cornered in a telephone booth by a werewolf, but he stayed cool and — zap — just _fantastic_." Harry smothered a snicker. Cornered by a werewolf in a telephone booth and then zap! Ha!

"My name was down for Eton, you know. I can't tell you how glad I am I came here instead. Of course, Mother was slightly disappointed, but since I made her read Lockhart's books I think she's begun to see how useful it'll be to have a fully trained wizard in the family…"

After that they didn't have much chance to talk. Their earmuffs were back on and they needed to concentrate on the Mandrakes. Professor Sprout had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn't. The Mandrakes didn't like coming out of the earth, but didn't seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists, and gnashed their teeth; Harry spent ten whole minutes trying to squash a particularly fat one into a pot. Harry was lucky he had practice, others had a much harder time to finish their job.

By the end of the class, Harry, like everyone else, was sweaty, aching, and covered in earth. Everyone traipsed back to the castle for a quick wash.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: The only factual information on Samhain in this story is the date. The rest is my imagination, if you don't understand what I'm talking about right now, please come back after reading this chapter. **

CHAPTER 5

After lunch Harry joined Draco and Ron to DADA class, which turned out to be a joke. By the end of the class Harry had no doubt that he was a fraud. Lockhart only succeeded in creating a chaos with Cornish Pixies. and he didn't have a clue what he was doing. _Peskipksi Pesternomi,_ indeed.

The next week Slytherin Quidditch captain Marcus Flint arranged for the Quidditch try out. Harry and Draco both signed in and both got selected, Harry as the seeker and Draco as beater. Severus didn't seem very happy about it though. One that reminded him of James Potter and two he didn't like his Godson and Harry involved in such a violent sport. However he had to relent seeing the big grin Harry wore when flying on his brand new Nimbus 2001. They got to witness a spectacular row between Marcus flint and Gryffindor Quidditch captain Oliver Wood.

That weekend Harry went to visit Hagrid with Ron and Hermione. They were within twenty feet of Hagrid's house when the front door opened, but it wasn't Hagrid who emerged. Gilderoy Lockhart, wearing robes of palest mauve today, came striding out.

"Quick, behind here," Harry hissed, dragging Ron behind a nearby bush. Hermione followed, somewhat reluctantly.

"It's a simple matter if you know what you're doing!" Lockhart was saying loudly to Hagrid. "If you need help, you know where I am! I'll let you have a copy of my book. I'm surprised you haven't already got one — I'll sign one tonight and send it over. Well, good-bye!" And he strode away toward the castle.

Harry waited until Lockhart was out of sight, then went to the door and knocked. Hagrid appeared at once, looking very grumpy, but his expression brightened when he saw who it was.

"Bin wonderin' when you'd come ter see me — come in, come in — thought you mighta bin Professor Lockhart back again —"

They crossed over the threshold into the one-roomed cabin, which had an enormous bed in one corner, a fire crackling merrily in the other.

Hagrid was bustling around making them tea. His boarhound, Fang, was slobbering over Harry.

"What did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?" Harry asked, scratching Fang's ears.

"Givin' me advice on gettin' kelpies out of a well," growled Hagrid, moving a half-plucked rooster off his scrubbed table and setting down the teapot. "Like I don' know. An' bangin' on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle."

It was most unlike Hagrid to criticize a Hogwarts' teacher, and Harry looked at him in surprise. Hermione, however, said in a voice somewhat higher than usual, "I think you're being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job —"

"He was the _on'y _man for the job," said Hagrid, offering them a plate of treacle toffee, while Ron coughed squelchily into his basin. "An' I mean the _on'y _one. Gettin' very difficult ter find anyone fer

the Dark Arts job. People aren't too keen ter take it on, see. They're startin' ter think it's jinxed. No one's lasted long fer a while now."

"Come an' see what I've bin growin'," said Hagrid as Harry and Hermione finished the last of their tea.

In the small vegetable patch behind Hagrid's house were a dozen of the largest pumpkins Harry had ever seen. Each was the size of a large boulder.

"Gettin' on well, aren't they?" said Hagrid happily. "Fer the Halloween feast_…_should be big enough by then."

"What've you been feeding them?" said Harry.

Hagrid looked over his shoulder to check that they were alone.

"Well, I've bin givin' them — you know — a bit o' help —"

Harry noticed Hagrid's flowery pink umbrella leaning against the back wall of the cabin. Harry had had reason to believe before now that this umbrella was not all it looked; in fact, he had the strong impression that Hagrid's old school wand was concealed inside it. Hagrid wasn't supposed to use magic. He had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, but Harry had never found out why — any mention of the matter and Hagrid would clear his throat loudly and become mysteriously deaf until the subject was changed.

"An Engorgement Charm, I suppose?" said Hermione, halfway between disapproval and amusement. "Well, you've done a good job on them."

"That's what yer little sister said," said Hagrid, nodding at Ron. "Met her jus' yesterday." Hagrid looked sideways at Harry, his beard twitching. "Said she was jus' lookin' round the grounds, but I reckon she was hopin' she might run inter someone else at my house." He winked at Harry. "Oh, shut up," said Harry. Ron snorted with laughter.

October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward. Ginny Weasley, who had been looking pale, was bullied into taking some by Percy. The steam pouring from under her vivid hair gave the impression that her whole head was on fire. Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid's pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds. Oliver Wood's enthusiasm for regular training sessions, however, was not dampened, and Flint decided to compete with him, which was why Harry and Draco was to be found, late one stormy Saturday afternoon a few days before Halloween, returning to the Dungeons, drenched to the skin and splattered with mud.

"Ah, Halloween tomorrow, feeling lucky Harry?" Draco knew Halloween was a sore subject for Harry, but he found out that Harry welcomed sarcasm more than sympathy.

"Yes, I decided to celebrate Samhain tomorrow." Harry replied levelly.

"Samhain? As in the Druidic ritual?" Draco asked.

Harry rolled his eyes, "No, my death day. Duh" seeing Draco's warning look he added, "Really Draco, are you a pureblood or not? It's an ancient magical tradition because the ambient magic is very high on Samhain."

"So, what are you going to do?" Draco asked a little warily.

"Relax Draco, I'll just meditate a bit, that's all. You can join me if you like."

"No thanks, I'd rather join the feast."

"Huh, you're turning into Ron."

"Hey! That hurt!"

The next day at the Halloween night, or Samhain saw Harry sitting Indian style in the middle of a seven pointed star on the floor of his portion of dormitory, Theodore and Blaise had learned to give him space when he wanted a long time ago. A candle, a small bowl of water and another small bowl full of freshly dug earth rested on alternate points of the star. Harry closed his eyes and relaxed, letting his magical sense to explore. His surroundings, the Dungeons, the castle seemed even more magical than usual. Harry could feel the magic whisper to his core, could feel his core responding to the call… reaching out… caressing the magic… embracing it… absorbing it…

Dinner was halfway through when Harry exited his dormitory hoping to get some desert at least. He was so absorbed in his meditation, that he lost track of time. He walked faster, the passageway, then the entrance hall and then dinner!

And then Harry heard it.

"_Come…come to me…Let me rip you…Let me tear you…Let me kill you…__"_

He stumbled to a halt, clutching at the stone wall, listening with all his might, looking around, squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway.

"…_rip…tear…kill_…"

"_Sabrina!"_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and added my story and myself to favorites and alerts. I also thank you for bearing with some abysmal mistakes of mine, but I also hope that you have enjoyed the ride that you are continuing with me.**

**Parseltongue is italicized and underlined.**

**CHAPTER 6**

The hissing stopped abruptly. Harry waited with baited breath. Then after waiting for a second, came a tentative reply, "_H- Harry_?" Harry exhaled sharply.

"_What are you doing out here, Sabrina? Who let you out? Who opened the chamber?"_

"_I don't remember! Harry, what happened to me? I- I could have killed someone! Salazar would be so disappointed! I-"_

"_Yes, you could have killed someone, but you didn't. Now, get back to the chamber. I'll see you there." _Sabrina noted the commanding tone creeping into Harry's voice, but she didn't mind. She was reassured that Harry was in charge now.

"_See you later Harry." _She slithered her way to the chamber.

Harry took a deep breath, he can't be spotted. He sprinted back into the deserted dungeon and all the way to his dormitory. He grabbed his invisibility cloak and ran back out. He covered himself as he came out of the dungeons and hurried to the second floor girls' bathroom. He slid down the pipe after a hurried hello to Myrtle.

Sabrina was waiting for him in front of the main chamber. Together they entered the main chamber.

"_Now Sabrina, tell me what that was all about?"_ Harry asked once they were settled.

"_I'm most chagrined to tell you that I don't remember what happened, and I have no idea how I ended up so close to exposure_." Sabrina was ashamed. She was worried about disappointing not only Salazar, but also Harry. Suddenly she realized that she has come to care about Harry. But I had cared about that youngling too, she thought. But that one wouldn't have demanded you to go back. He'd have been thrilled that you could kill so easily, a small voice supplied in her head.

"_But it takes a Parselmouth to open the chamber. Try to remember Sabrina, was there someone else? How can you forget? You are a basilisk for Merlin's sake! They can't just obliviate you and be done with!"_

Sabrina shook her head helplessly, "_You are right, of course. My hide is immune to magic, and people can't look me in the eye. So I'm safe from magical manipulation._"

"_How then? How did anyone enter the chamber and set you loose? And you-_" Harry faltered here, he didn't know if he should tell her about the 'let me rip you' let me kill you' part.

But Sabrina wasn't fooled, "_And I what, Harry_?"

"_Later Sabrina, let's just say you didn't behave like yourself. I'll lock the chamber again, and I think I'll talk to Salazar about it._" Harry patted her on the head, "_Take care Sabrina, and I'll come see you later._"

She leaned into his touch for a moment, and then she slithered into her resting place behind Salazar's statue.

Harry was not reassured by the fact that he had stopped Sabrina just at the right moment, he was afraid that he will not be able to intervene at the right time. His fear came to reality nearly two weeks later. Harry and Hermione were accompanying Ron to the Gryffindor tower for a chat with the Weasleys. Draco had excused himself showing some reason or the other that convinced everyone but Harry.

Ron and Harry was busy with Quidditch talks when Hermione gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor.

"_Look!_"

Something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

_THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. _

_ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE _

Harry's heart was beating so loudly it was a surprise Ron and Hermione didn't hear.

"What's that thing — hanging underneath?" said Ron, a slight quiver in his voice.

As they edged nearer, Harry almost slipped — there was a large puddle of water on the floor; Ron and Hermione grabbed him, and they inched toward the message, eyes fixed on a dark shadow beneath it. All three of them realized what it was at once, and leapt backward with a splash.

Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.

For a few seconds, they didn't move. Then Ron said, "Let's get out of here."

"Shouldn't we try and help —" Harry began awkwardly.

"Trust me," said Ron. "We don't want to be found here."

But it was too late. A rumble, as though of distant thunder, told them that the feast had just ended. From either end of the corridor where they stood came the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs, and the loud, happy talk of well-fed people; next moment, students were crashing into the passage from both ends.

The chatter, the bustle, the noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood alone, in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight. Harry's eyes locked with Draco, his face covered in a sneering mask, but his grey eyes were wide with alarm.

"What's going on here? What's going on?"

Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked.

And his popping eyes fell on Harry.

"_You_!" he screeched. "_You_! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll—"

"_Argus_!"

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Harry, Ron, and Hermione and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.

"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger."

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

"My office is nearest, Headmaster — just upstairs — please feel free—"

"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore.

The silent crowd parted to let them pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape.

As they entered Lockhart's darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; Harry saw several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back. Dumbledore lay Mrs. Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her. Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged tense looks and sank into chairs outside the pool of candlelight, watching.

The tip of Dumbledore's long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs. Norris's fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression: It was as though he was trying hard not to smile. And Lockhart was hovering around all of them, making suggestions.

"It was definitely a curse that killed her — probably the Transmogrifian Torture — I've seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn't there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her…"

Lockhart's comments were punctuated by Filch's dry, racking sobs. He was slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs. Norris, his face in his hands. Much as he detested Filch, Harry felt horrible. He knew Mrs. Norris was just petrified, but that didn't cover the fact that Sabrina has been let out again, and she was that crazed and bloodthirsty self somehow.

Dumbledore was now muttering strange words under his breath and tapping Mrs. Norris with his wand but nothing happened. She continued to look as though she had been recently stuffed.

"…I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadogou," said Lockhart, "a series of attacks, the full story's in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once…"

The photographs of Lockhart on the walls were all nodding in agreement as he talked. One of them had forgotten to remove his hair net.

At last Dumbledore straightened up.

"She's not dead, Argus," he said softly.

Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented.

"Not dead?" choked Filch, looking through his fingers at Mrs. Norris. "But why's she all — all stiff and frozen?"

"She has been Petrified," said Dumbledore ("Ah! I thought so!" said Lockhart). "But how, I cannot say…"

"Ask _him_!" shrieked Filch, turning his blotched and tearstained face to Harry.

"No second year could have done this," said Dumbledore firmly. "it would take Dark Magic of the most advanced kind."

"If I might speak, Headmaster," said Snape from the shadows, and Harry's sense of foreboding increased; he was sure Severus would be asking a hundred questions when they were alone.

"Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time," he said, a slight sneer curling his mouth as though he doubted it. A look sent at Harry said quite plainly, this is not over young man, Harry gulped.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I'm really really sorry for this ridiculous delay on my part. I'll be honest with you, I's out of the plot for a while. I'll try not to procrastinate for as long as I just did in future. Don't deprive me off reviews though…**

Chapter 7

"The symptoms point towards the Imperius…"

"For the hundredth time Rowena, it's impossible to cast an imperius on a basilisk!"

"I know Salazar, but what can make her behave like that?"

"A potion perhaps? You know more about them than almost anyone."

"I wouldn't say that much, but yes, I know a fair bit about potions, but there is nothing that can affect a basilisk that I know of. And Severus doesn't know or haven't mentioned it ever. I have a portrait there. One of the very few."

Once again, Harry felt like he was watching a very long tennis match. The founders have all been very anxious when he came in with the news about Sabrina. They moved rapidly and agitatedly among the four frames. Students and possibly staff members would have a heart attack if they saw Godric comforting Salazar like a brother. Once again Helga tried to bring them to their senses.

"I think we are going about this the wrong way. Why don't we start thinking what 'might' affect a basilisk like Sabrina?"

"That's a good suggestion Ella, thanks." Salazar acknowledged.

At once the four started to mutter about ancient and obsolete spells and rituals that Harry didn't understand a word of. He remembered the moments he had heard Sabrina on her 'episode'.

"It was as if she wasn't there at all." He muttered aloud.

"What?" All four founders exclaimed at the same time.

Harry startled, "Yeah, I mean it's like someone else talking on her behalf, someone else thinking on her behalf… what?"

"That's a good observation Harry, isn't it Sal?" Helga said.

"Yes, yes it is." Salazar replied, distracted.

"Does legilimency work on basilisks?" Rowena asked.

"It can work Ro, if she agrees to turn off her petrification powers for the caster to look her in the eye." Salazar said.

"And she does that for Harry, doesn't she?" Godric exclaimed.

"And what do you mean by that, Ric?" Helga glared at him.

Godric glared right back, "Not what you're thinking Ella, I assure you. I's thinking if maybe someone comes in speaking Parseltongue, Sabrina may have a lapse of judgment and she may come out thinking it's just Harry, thus giving the assaulter the time to cast legilimency?"

All the occupants exchanged looks with each other.

For a few days, the school could talk of little else but the attack on Mrs. Norris. Filch kept it fresh in everyone's minds by pacing the spot where she had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker might come back. Harry had seen him scrubbing the message on the wall with Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, but to no effect; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone. When Filch wasn't guarding the scene of the crime, he was skulking red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at unsuspecting students and trying to put them in detention for things like "breathing loudly' and "looking happy."

Ginny Weasley seemed very disturbed by Mrs. Norris's fate. According to Ron, she was a great cat lover.

"But you haven't really got to know Mrs. Norris," Ron told her bracingly. "Honestly, we're much better off without her." Ginny's lip trembled. "Stuff like this doesn't often happen at Hogwarts," Ron assured her. "They'll catch the maniac who did it and have him out of here in no time. I just hope he's got time to Petrify Filch before he's expelled. I'm only joking —" Ron added hastily as Ginny blanched.

The attack had also had an effect on Hermione. It was quite usual for Hermione to spend a lot of time reading, but she was now doing almost nothing else. Ron couldn't get much response from her when he asked what she was up to, but Harry had a guess and he was panicking in his mind that Hermione might end up finding something. Draco wasn't much help at all, he had taken to avoiding Harry, which was the most stupid thing he could have done, Harry thought.

Harry had been held back in Potions, where Snape had made him stay behind to scrape tubeworms off the desks.

As soon as everyone filtered out of the room, the door closed with a resounding boom. Harry kept himself from jumping, Severus was in a bad mood he felt. Surely, Severus was looming over him, his bottomless black eyes boring into his, "What are you keeping from me, Harry? What are you hiding?"

Harry's thought raced, I can't possibly tell him about Sabrina. He'll insist on killing her. And even he couldn't deny the fact that the image of Sabrina on a killing spree made him shudder too. What can he say? He has to say something to Severus, he was waiting, his arms crossed at his chest. "Will you teach me Occlumency, Severus?" Harry blurted out. Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Where did that come from?"

"Well, I's reading in the library the other day and there was this interesting topic about mind magic, Occlumency and Legilimency they are called I think-"

"There is no book on mind magic in the library apart from the restricted section." Severus leaned forward.

"Of course Severus, where do you think I got the book from?" Harry gave him a mischievous grin that was just the right amount of convincing, even for Severus. He frowned.

"And who gave you the permission slip?" surely no one was that much of an idiot- oh, Merlin!

"Well, you see Severus, our new defense teacher has his own way of dealing with a Banshee, so I just wanted a theoretical overview of his valiant endeavor." His eyes danced with mirth. It was just like something Lockhart would do.

Severus ground his teeth in frustration. "That bigoted little-" Severus caught himself from violently swearing in front of a twelve year old, just in time. Harry couldn't stop himself however, he burst out laughing.

"Come on you little brat, it's only polite to invite you to some tea, since you're here for at least an hour." Severus led him to his quarters, muttering, "How I ever expected you to end anywhere but Slytherin is beyond me." causing Harry to chuckle lightly.

They talked about a lot of things over their tea and scones, Harry's studies, Severus' research and lots of, lots of potions and Harry managed to convince Severus to teach him the basics of Occlumency. Though Severus kept insisting that it was a ridiculously advanced and rare magic Harry shouldn't even know about.

"So, what were you doing at the corridor where Mrs. Norris was attacked?" Severus asked after taking the last sip of his tea. "You weren't present at the feast either. Do you anything about the attack that we don't?"

"Of course not Severus." Harry answered casually, but his insides were doing a drum role. "I was late for dinner. And then Ron and Hermione were returning from Nearly-Headless Nick's death-day party which Ron promised to attend and dragged Hermione along. They seemed quite shaken by the experience, so I offered to accompany them to the third or fourth floor. Draco'd have saved food for me anyway."

Severus nodded, apparently convinced for now. He filled another cup and said, "I have noticed some changes in Draco's behavior. He looks alarmed by something. I doubt anyone'd have noticed, have you?"

And so the conversation turned safely to Draco Malfoy and what could possibly make him alarmed.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: After a lot of procrastinating, I finally ended up writing this chapter. I know a lot of you might have stopped following my story or reviewing for this. But I'm not abandoning the story, I promise.**

Draco Malfoy was unhappy, well unhappy was an understatement. He felt scared and betrayed. His father was planning to harm the Weasleys with the help of a diary. Though how can he harm someone with a diary Draco couldn't think. A blackmail material perhaps? A year ago, and Draco'd have been happy and excited by the prospect of seeing someone put down a notch. But now, he didn't know what to think of people in general. As a Malfoy he has been raised to look down on people who were weaker than him or useless to him. But Harry taught him to keep an open mind. And the Weasley boy, Ron is not half bad. He's rather calculative when he puts his mind into it.

And speaking of Harry, he's keeping secrets from him too. He knew something about the attack, Draco could tell. But Harry was utterly silent about it. Why'd Harry want to help someone attacking people Draco couldn't imagine. But it's also true that Draco knew very little about Harry. It's almost impossible to tell what he's thinking by looking at his face. But Harry wouldn't wish harm on people. He wouldn't. Draco got up from his bed and shook his head. Harry was absent, as always. Where does he disappear every morning?

Albus Dumbledore was worried. The recent events reminded him of a similar event fifty years ago. The most disconcerting of all, a certain child reminded him of a child fifty years ago. A child whose potential was astounding, who chose the wrong path for himself. And here was another child, who could produce a fifth year shield charm in his first year. Who like the other boy didn't leave the professors anything to complain about.

Then the incidents of the Chamber of Secrets. The petrifications, the mystery of it all. And both of them were involved, his instincts said so. His instincts never lied, but in both cases he had no proof.

But he wanted to trust Harry, he wanted to guide him, nurture his talents, stop him from making the mistakes Tom had made.

Both of them half-bloods, orphans. Both of them secretive and brilliant and extremely powerful. Both of them sharing their wand's brother. Albus Dumbledore was very very worried.

The next day Harry found Ron at the back of the library, measuring his History of Magic homework. Professor Binns had asked for a three foot long composition on "The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards." Draco looked up from his herbology essay at Harry and then turned back as if he had nothing to say. Harry frowned and opened his mouth, but Ron beat him to it.

"I don't believe it, I'm still eight inches short said Ron furiously, letting go of his parchment, which sprang back into a roll. "And Hermione's done four feet seven inches and her writing's tiny."

"Where is she?" asked Harry, grabbing the tape measure and unrolling his own homework.

"Somewhere over there," said Ron, pointing along the shelves. "Looking for another book. I think she's trying to read the whole library before Christmas." Draco snorted, but immediately looked down as Harry rounded on him, "You wanted to say something Draco?" his voices sounding dangerous with impatience. Draco stiffened, Ron looked up, surprised.

Hermione emerged from between the bookshelves. She looked irritable and at last seemed ready to talk to them.

"All the copies of _Hogwarts, A History _have been taken out," she said, sitting down next to Harry and Ron. "And there's a two-week waiting list. I _wish _I hadn't left my copy at home, but I couldn't fit it in my trunk with all the Lockhart books."

"Why do you want it?" said Harry, with a dreading feeling in his stomach.

"The same reason everyone else wants it," said Hermione, "to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets."

"What's that?" said Harry quickly.

"That's just it. I can't remember," said Hermione, biting her lip. "And I can't find the story anywhere else. Don't tell me you haven't read it —"

"Hermione, let me read your composition," said Ron desperately, checking his watch.

"No, I won't," said Hermione, suddenly severe. "You've had ten days to finish it —"

"I only need another two inches, come on —"

The bell rang. Ron and Hermione led the way to History of Magic, bickering.

History of Magic was the dullest subject on their schedule. Professor Binns, who taught it, was their only ghost teacher, and the most exciting thing that ever happened in his classes was his entering the room through the blackboard. Ancient and shriveled, many people said he hadn't noticed he was dead. He had simply got up to teach one day and left his body behind him in an armchair in front of the staff room fire; his routine had not varied in the slightest since.

Today was as boring as ever. Professor Binns opened his notes and began to read in a flat drone like an old vacuum cleaner until nearly everyone in the class was in a deep stupor, occasionally coming to long enough to copy down a name or date, then falling asleep again. He had been speaking for half an hour when something happened that had never happened before. Hermione put up her hand.

Professor Binns, glancing up in the middle of a deadly dull lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289, looked amazed.

"Miss — er —?"

"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," said Hermione in a clear voice.

Dean Thomas, who had been sitting with his mouth hanging open, gazing out of the window, jerked out of his trance; Lavender Brown's head came up off her arms and Seamus Finnegun's elbow slipped off his desk.

Professor Binns blinked.

"My subject is History of Magic," he said in his dry, wheezy voice. "I deal with _facts_, Miss Granger, not myths and legends." He cleared his throat with a small noise like chalk slipping and continued, "In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers —"

He stuttered to a halt. Hermione's hand was waving in the air again.

"Miss Grant?"

"Please, sir, don't legends always have a basis in fact?"

Professor Binns was looking at her in such amazement, Ron was sure no student had ever interrupted him before, alive or dead.

"Well," said Professor Binns slowly, "yes, one could argue that, I suppose." He peered at Hermione as though he had never seen a student properly before. "However, the legend of which you speak is such a very _sensational_, even _ludicrous _tale —"

But the whole class was now hanging on Professor Binns's every word. He looked dimly at them all, every face turned to his. Harry could tell he was completely thrown by such an unusual show of interest.

"Oh, very well," he said slowly. "Let me see_…_the Chamber of Secrets_… _

"You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago — the precise date is uncertain — by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution."

He paused, gazed blearily around the room, and continued.

"For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more _selective _about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school."

Professor Binns paused again, pursing his lips, looking like a wrinkled old tortoise.

"Reliable historical sources tell us this much," he said. "But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing.

"Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic."

There was silence as he finished telling the story, but it wasn't the usual, sleepy silence that filled Professor Binns's classes. There was unease in the air as everyone continued to watch him, hoping for more. Professor Binns looked faintly annoyed.

"The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course," he said. "Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible."

Hermione's hand was back in the air.

"Sir — what exactly do you mean by the 'horror within' the Chamber?"

"That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control," said Professor Binns in his dry, reedy voice.

The class exchanged nervous looks.

"I tell you, the thing does not exist," said Professor Binns, shuffling his notes. "There is no Chamber and no monster."

"But, sir," said Seamus Finnigan, "if the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin's true heir, no one else _would _be able to find it, would they?"

"Nonsense, O'Flaherty," said Professor Binns in an aggravated tone. "If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven't found the thing —"

"But, Professor," piped up Parvati Patil, "you'd probably have to use Dark Magic to open it —"

"Just because a wizard _doesn't _use Dark Magic doesn't mean he _can't_, Miss Pennyfeather," snapped Professor Binns. "I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore –"

"But maybe you've got to be related to Slytherin, so Dumbledore couldn't —" began Dean Thomas, but Professor Binns had had enough.

"That will do," he said sharply. "It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to _history_, to solid, believable, verifiable _fact_!"

And within five minutes, the class had sunk back into its usual torpor.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Parts of the Occlumency theory is borrowed from The Fictionist and Suite Sambo. Check out their stories, they are awesome.**

Harry knocked on the door of Severus' office for his first Occlumency lesson.

"Enter" came the usual drawl. Harry shut the door behind him and took a seat.

"Good evening Severus." He greeted.

Severus looked up from his grading and met his eyes. "Are you sure about thins Harry? It's not easy. And it might put a lot of strain on your mind." He wouldn't have agreed in the first place if it was anyone other than Harry.

"Sure Severus, I'm so excited about it." Harry grinned, and desperate too, he added in his mind.

"Okay then. Occlumency is the art of protecting one's mind from external invasion. It organizes your memories in a way that you can maintain and protect. There are many classifications. The most important are Offensive-Defensive, and Emotional-Stoic." Severus lectured and Harry listened with rapt attention. He had come by this theory by himself, but there was something about the way Severus explained things, it was as if he could see those things plain as daylight.

"The names are self-explanatory, you understand I'm sure. In emotional Occlumency you either trap the intruder in an abyss of negative emotions in your mind, which is defensive. Or you may attack the intruder with those negative emotions attacking his or her sanity effectively, which is offensive Occlumency."

"But the emotional Occlumency is a relatively new branch of study. The traditional branch is the stoic shield. It involves building a virtual shield in your mind to protect it from intruders. It can be a solid wall made of brick or stone, or maybe an obstacle made of fire, water or air, whatever comes to you naturally and makes you feel at home." Severus stopped speaking and looked at Harry. It was apparent that Harry understood what he said. That baffled him a bit. It was a s if Harry knew it from before or he had an advanced understanding of things.

"Do you understand what I said?" Severus wanted to make sure.

Harry nodded, "I think I do."

"Alright then, now I'll try to penetrate your mind, you'll try to block me. Then we'll get an idea on what your shield is going to be. Nod once when you are ready."

Harry took a deep breath and nodded once, confidently.

"Legilimens!"

Hermione Granger was a smart girl, she had all it took to be the cleverest witch of her time, wit, a brilliant memory, tenacity. She wouldn't leave a problem alone when it had the misfortune of presenting itself in front of her. Above all she was brilliant in researching, although she lacked Harry's resourcefulness. So it was no surprise that when the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets presented itself to her and directly threatened her life for being a muggle-born, she'd spend day and night to solve the mystery.

Harry had noticed this obsession of hers and was alarmed, because if anyone stood a chance of figuring it all out, it'd be her. And he was weary of her reaction when she'd realize that Harry was protecting the very thing that threatened her life. Harry had come to value her opinions and friendship.

"D'you _really _think there's a Chamber of Secrets?" Ron asked Hermione one day as they were returning from the library to their towers. Harry had returned to the dungeons.

"I don't know," she said, frowning. "Dumbledore couldn't cure Mrs. Norris, and that makes me think that whatever attacked her might not be — well — human."

As she spoke, they turned a corner and found themselves at the end of the very corridor where the attack had happened. They stopped and looked. The scene was just as it had been that night, except that there was no stiff cat hanging from the torch bracket, and an empty chair stood against the wall bearing the message "The Chamber of Secrets has been Opened."

"That's where Filch has been keeping guard," Ron muttered.

They looked at each other. The corridor was deserted.

"Can't hurt to have a poke around," said Ron, dropping his bag and getting to his hands and knees so that he could crawl along, searching for clues.

"Scorch marks!" he said. "Here — and here —"

"Come and look at this!" said Hermione. "This is funny…"

He got up and crossed to the window next to the message on the wall. Hermione was pointing at the topmost pane, where around twenty spiders were scuttling, apparently fighting to get through a small crack. A long, silvery thread was dangling like a rope, as though they had all climbed it in their hurry to get outside.

"Have you ever seen spiders act like that?" said Hermione wonderingly.

She looked over her shoulder. Ron was standing well back and seemed to be fighting the impulse to run.

"What's up?" said Hermione.

"I — don't — like — spiders," said Ron tensely.

"I never knew that," said Hermione, looking at Ron in surprise. "You've used spiders in Potions loads of times…"

"I don't mind them dead," said Ron, who was carefully looking anywhere but at the window. "I just don't like the way they move…"

Hermione giggled.

"It's not funny," said Ron, fiercely. "If you must know, when I was three, Fred turned my — my teddy bear into a great big filthy spider because I broke his toy broomstick_…_You wouldn't like them either if you'd been holding your bear and suddenly it had too many legs and…"

He broke off, shuddering. Hermione was obviously still trying not to laugh. Feeling they had better get off the subject, she said, "Remember all that water on the floor? Where did that come from? Someone's mopped it up."

"It was about here," said Ron, recovering himself to walk a few paces past Filch's chair and pointing. "Level with this door."

He reached for the brass doorknob but suddenly withdrew his hand as though he'd been burned.

"Can't go in there," said Ron gruffly. "That's a girls' toilet."

"Oh, Ron, there won't be anyone in there," said Hermione standing up and coming over. "That's Moaning Myrtle's place. Come on, let's have a look."

And ignoring the large OUT OF ORDER sign, she opened the door.

Hermione put her fingers to her lips and set off toward the end stall. When she reached it she said, "Hello, Myrtle, how are you?"

Ron went to look. Moaning Myrtle was floating above the tank of the toilet, picking a spot on her chin.

"Ask her if she saw anything," He mouthed at Hermione.

"What are you whispering?" said Myrtle, staring at him.

"Nothing," said Ron quickly. "We wanted to ask —"

"I wish people would stop talking behind my back!" said Myrtle, in a voice choked with tears. "I _do _have feelings, you know, even if I _am _dead —"

"We wanted to ask you if you've seen anything funny lately," said Hermione quickly. "Because a cat was attacked right outside your front door on Halloween."

"Did you see anyone near here that night?" said Ron.

"I wasn't paying attention," said Myrtle dramatically. "Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to _kill _myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I'm — that I'm —"

"Already dead," said Ron helpfully.

Myrtle gave a tragic sob, rose up in the air, turned over, and dived headfirst into the toilet, splashing water all over them and vanishing from sight, although from the direction of her muffled sobs, she had come to rest somewhere in the U-bend.

Ron stood with his mouth open, but Hermione shrugged wearily and said, "Honestly, that was almost cheerful for Myrtle_…_Come on, let's go."

The office swam in front of his eyes and vanished; image after image was racing through his mind like a flickering film so vivid it blinded him to his surroundings.

He was five, watching Dudley riding a new red bicycle, and his heart was bursting with jealousy…he was nine, and Ripper the bulldog was chasing him up a tree and the Dursleys were laughing below on the lawn…he was sitting under the Sorting Hat, and it was telling him he would do well in Slytherin…he was standing at the back of the library and a portrait swam into view.

"No," said a voice inside Harry's head, "you're not watching that, you're not watching it, it's private –"

He felt a sharp pain in his knee. Snape's office had come back into view and he realized that he had fallen to the floor; one of his knees had collided painfully with the leg of Snape's desk. He looked up at Snape, who had lowered his wand and was rubbing his wrist. There was an angry weal there, like a scorch mark.

"Did you mean to produce a Stinging Hex?" asked Severus coolly.

"No," said Harry sheepishly, getting up from the floor.

"I thought not," said Snape, watching him closely. "It was a good try. But you let me get in too far. You lost control."

"Did you see everything I saw?" Harry asked, unsure whether he wanted to hear the answer.

"Flashes of it," said Snape, his lip curling. "To whom did the dog belong?"

"My Aunt Marge," Harry muttered.

Severus shook himself out of his anger on behalf of Harry and noticed the surroundings. Harry's magic had reacted defensively against the attack. Some of the jars had blasted apart. He mended them with an absent wave of his wand and dismissed Harry for the evening. He needed time to think. What was the portrait at the back of the library? He hadn't seen any portrait there, and Merlin knew he spent most of his student life in the library.

**A/N: So, er, review? Please? (Smiles sheepishly.) **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I'm so happy of the reviews I got and I feel so inspired. So I just had to write it. Here we go.**

A week later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking across the entrance hall when they saw a small knot of people gathered around the notice board, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas beckoned them over, looking excited.

"They're starting a Dueling Club!" said Seamus. "First meeting tonight! I wouldn't mind dueling lessons; they might come in handy one of these days…"

"What, you reckon Slytherin's monster can duel?" said Ron, but he, too, read the sign with interest.

"Could be useful," he said to Harry and Hermione as they went into dinner. "Shall we go?" None of them noticed Draco standing behind in silence.

Harry and Hermione were all for it, so at eight o'clock that evening they hurried back to the Great Hall. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited.

"I wonder who'll be teaching us?" said Hermione as they edged into the chattering crowd. "Someone told me Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young — maybe it'll be him."

"As long as it's not —" Harry began, but he ended on a groan: Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!

"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions — for full details, see my published works.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry — you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

"I'd be more worried about our Defense Instructor." Ron murmured in Harry's ear, Harry grinned in response.

Snape's upper lip was curling. Harry wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Snape had been looking at him like that he'd have been running as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Harry murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth.

"One — two — three —"

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: "_Expelliarmus!_" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Harry grinned, Draco and some of the other Slytherins cheered. Hermione was dancing on tiptoes. "Do you think he's all right?" she squealed through her fingers.

"Who cares?" said Harry and Ron together.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm — as you see, I've lost my wand — ah, thank you, Miss Brown — yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy — however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…" Yes, yes, you felt, Harry thought with a grimace.

Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me —"

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Snape reached Harry and Ron first.

Harry moved automatically toward Hermione.

"I don't think so," said Snape, smiling coldly. "Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Potter. And you, Miss Granger — you can partner Miss Bulstrode."

Draco walked over, without his usual smirk. He was seething mentally, what Severus was thinking, partnering him with Harry! Harry won't need a minute to disarm him. But he wasn't a weakling himself. He gripped his wand tightly.

"Face your partners!" called Lockhart, back on the platform. "And bow!"

Harry and Draco barely inclined their heads, not taking their eyes off each other.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents — only to disarm them — we don't want any accidents — one_…_two_…_three —"

Harry swung his wand high, both of them started on "two": His spell hit Harry so hard he felt as though he'd been hit over the head with a saucepan. Harry pointed his wand straight at Malfoy and shouted, "_Rictusempra!_"

A jet of silver light hit Malfoy in the stomach and he doubled up, wheezing.

"I said disarm only!" Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, as Malfoy sank to his knees; Harry had hit him with a Tickling Charm, and he could barely move for laughing. Harry smirked and pointed his wand at Draco. "_Expelliarmus_!" he announced coolly. Snatching Draco's wand out of the air as it soared towards him.

"I win." He announced and offered Draco a hand up with a friendly grin. Draco looked up, his eyes narrowed, Harry shrugged and withdrew his hand, but a slither of unease started nagging at the corner of his mind.

The next morning, Harry woke up with a nagging feeling in his mind. Something was going to happen, something bad. He just knew it. He completed his morning rituals before Theodore and Blaise woke. He sat in the common room, the transfiguration textbook propped open on his lap, but his mind elsewhere. He wanted to check on Sabrina or talk to the founders. Salazar watched him from his portrait.

He looked up at the sound of footsteps, Draco walked in the common room and stopped short. He watched Harry apprehensively, weighing his options. He could just ignore him and walk out, spending sometime outside and arrive at the Great Hall at breakfast. But it was easier said than done. It was impossible to ignore Harry, and unthinkable when he was looking straight at him. His eyes narrowed just a little, killing curse eyes challenging him to move away. Draco sighed and went to sit on the opposite side of the couch. "Morning Harry." Draco said awkwardly.

Harry nodded, his eyes relaxing. "What is it, Draco?"

Draco shifted from foot to foot, "I don't know what you mean." He mumbled.

Harry arched an eyebrow at that, "Is that so? Shall I have to make it even more obvious? I thought Malfoys prided on their intelligence?"

Draco bristled at that. "Alright, I know. But I'm not going to tell you."

"Oh, and why not?"

Draco's eyes flashed, "Because, you don't consider me a friend anymore!" with that, he stormed out of the common room.

Harry sighed and shook his head. After a few minutes he too, to go talk to Sabrina. Zudissa was staying to keep her company and report if anything happens. But reaching the chamber had gone very difficult. Filch prowled on the corridor whenever he found the slightest of time. He poked his head around the corner. A great flood of water stretched over half the corridor and it looked as though it was still seeping from under the door of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. He could hear Myrtle's wails echoing off the bathroom walls.

Moaning Myrtle was crying, if possible, louder and harder than ever before. She seemed to be hiding down her usual toilet. It was dark in the bathroom because the candles had been extinguished in the great rush of water that had left both walls and floor soaking wet.

"What's up, Myrtle?" said Harry.

"Who's that?" glugged Myrtle miserably. "Come to throw something else at me?"

Harry waded across to her stall and said, "Why would I throw something at you?"

"Don't ask me," Myrtle shouted, emerging with a wave of yet more water, which splashed onto the already sopping floor. "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me…"

"Who threw it at you, anyway?" asked Harry.

"I don't know_…_I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it fell right through the top of my head," said Myrtle, glaring at them. "It's over there, it got washed out…"

Harry saw at once that it was a diary, and the faded year on the cover told him it was fifty years old. He opened it eagerly. On the first page he could just make out the name "T M. Riddle" in smudged ink. Harry's heart started to thud, it was his diary, Voldemort's diary. What could he write in a diary? Was he a mad murderer even then?

Harry peeled the wet pages apart. They were completely blank. There wasn't the faintest trace of writing on any of them.

He never wrote in it, thought Harry, disappointed.

Harry turned to the back cover of the book and saw the printed name of a variety store on Vauxhall Road, London.

He tapped the diary three times and said, _"Aparecium!" _

Nothing happened. Undaunted, He shoved his hand back into his bag and pulled out a Revealer.

He rubbed hard on January first. Nothing happened.

The sun had now begun to shine weakly on Hogwarts again. Inside the castle, the mood had grown more hopeful. There had been no more attacks since those on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, and Madam Pomfrey was pleased to report that the Mandrakes were becoming moody and secretive, meaning that they were fast leaving childhood.

"The moment their acne clears up, they'll be ready for repotting again," Harry heard her telling Filch kindly one afternoon. "And after that, it won't be long until we're cutting them up and stewing them. You'll have Mrs. Norris back in no time."

Gilderoy Lockhart seemed to think he himself had made the attacks stop. Harry overheard him telling Professor McGonagall so while the Gryffindors were lining up for Transfiguration. "I don't think there'll be any more trouble, Minerva," he said, tapping his nose knowingly and winking. "I think the Chamber has been locked for good this time. The culprit must have known it was only a matter of time before I caught him. Rather sensible to stop now, before I came down hard on him.

"You know, what the school needs now is a morale-booster. Wash away the memories of last term! I won't say any more just now, but I think I know just the thing…"

He tapped his nose again and strode off.

Lockhart's idea of a morale-booster became clear at breakfast time on February fourteenth. Harry hurried to the Great Hall, slightly late. He thought, for a moment, that he'd walked through the wrong doors.

The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling. Harry went over to the Gryffindor table, where Ron was sitting looking sickened, and Hermione seemed to have been overcome with giggles.

"What's going on?" Harry asked them, sitting down and wiping confetti off his bacon.

Ron pointed to the teachers' table, apparently too disgusted to speak. Lockhart, wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations, was waving for silence. The teachers on either side of him were looking stony-faced. From where he sat, Harry could see a muscle going in Professor McGonagall's cheek. Severus looked as though someone had just fed him a large beaker of Skele-Gro.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all — and it doesn't end here!"

Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs. Not just any dwarfs, however. Lockhart had them all wearing golden wings and carrying harps.

"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" beamed Lockhart. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"

Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands. Snape was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison.

"Please, Hermione, tell me you weren't one of the forty-six," said Ron as they left the Great Hall for their first lesson. Hermione suddenly became very interested in searching her bag for her schedule and didn't answer.

All day long, the dwarfs kept barging into their classes to deliver valentines, to the annoyance of the teachers, and late that afternoon as the Slytherins were walking upstairs for Charms, one of the dwarfs caught up with Harry.

"Oi, you! 'Arry Potter!" shouted a particularly grim-looking dwarf, elbowing people out of the way to get to Harry.

Hot all over at the thought of being given a valentine in front of a line of first years, Harry tried to escape. The dwarf, however, cut his way through the crowd by kicking people's shins, and reached him before he'd gone two paces.

"I've got a musical message to deliver to 'Arry Potter in person," he said, twanging his harp in a threatening sort of way.

"Not here," Harry hissed, trying to escape.

"Stay still!" grunted the dwarf, grabbing hold of Harry's bag and pulling him back.

"Let me go!" Harry snarled, tugging.

With a loud ripping noise, his bag split in two. His books, wand, parchment, and quill spilled onto the floor and his ink bottle smashed over everything.

Harry scrambled around, trying to pick it all up before the dwarf started singing, causing something of a holdup in the corridor.

"What's going on here?" came the cold, drawling voice of Draco Malfoy. Harry started stuffing everything feverishly into his ripped bag, desperate to get away before Draco could hear his musical valentine.

"What's all this commotion?" said another familiar voice as Percy Weasley arrived.

Losing his head, Harry tried to make a run for it, but the dwarf seized him around the knees and brought him crashing to the floor.

"Right," he said, sitting on Harry's ankles. "Here is your singing valentine:

_His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, _

_His hair is as dark as a blackboard, _

_I wish he was mine, _

_He's really divine, _

_The hero who conquered the Dark Lord _

Harry would have given all the gold in Gringotts to evaporate on the spot. Trying valiantly to laugh along with everyone else, he got up, his feet numb from the weight of the dwarf, as Percy Weasley did his best to disperse the crowd, some of whom were crying with mirth.

"Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now," he said, shooing some of the younger students away. "And you, Malfoy —"

Harry, glancing over, saw Draco stoop and snatch up something. His face paled, and Harry realized that he'd got Riddle's diary.

"Give that back," said Harry quietly.

"Hand it over, Malfoy," said Percy sternly.

Draco was looking furious, and as Ginny passed him to enter her classroom, he yelled spitefully after her, "I don't think Potter liked your valentine much!"

Ginny covered her face with her hands and ran into class.

It wasn't until they had reached Professor Flitwick's class that Harry noticed something rather odd about Riddle's diary. All his other books were drenched in scarlet ink. The diary, however, was as clean as it had been before the ink bottle had smashed all over it.

Harry went to bed before anyone else in his dormitory that night. He wanted to examine Riddle's diary again.

Harry sat on his four-poster and flicked through the blank pages, not one of which had a trace of scarlet ink on it. Then he pulled a new bottle out of his bedside cabinet, dipped his quill into it, and dropped a blot onto the first page of the diary.

The ink shone brightly on the paper for a second and then, as though it was being sucked into the page, vanished. Excited, Harry loaded up his quill a second time and wrote, "My name is Harry Potter."

The words shone momentarily on the page and they, too, sank without trace. Then, at last, something happened.

Oozing back out of the page, in his very own ink, came words Harry had never written.

"Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?"


	11. Chapter 11

Harry sat there inside his curtained bed, how can this be possible? What kind of magic could make this happen? A fifty year old diary was writing back to him. Should he take it to Severus? No, he decided after a minute.

He decided to go for a neutral answer for a start.

"Someone tried to flush it down a toilet."

He waited eagerly for Riddle's reply.

"Lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink. But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read."

"What do you mean?" Harry scrawled, controlling his excitement.

"I mean that this diary holds memories of terrible things. Things that were covered up. Things that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Harry reminded himself that he was speaking to virtually a young version of Lord Voldemort; he was quite good at deception, even at that age. "That's where I am now," Harry wrote quickly. "I'm at Hogwarts, and horrible stuff's been happening. Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?"

His heart was hammering, what kind of a story he could have fabricated to cover up Myrtle's murder? Riddle's reply came quickly, his writing becoming untidier, as though he was hurrying to tell all he knew.

"Of course I know about the Chamber of Secrets. In my day, they told us it was a legend, that it did not exist. But this was a lie. In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who'd opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the Headmaster, Professor Dippet, ashamed that such a thing had happened at Hogwarts, forbade me to tell the truth. A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident. They gave me a nice, shiny, engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again. The monster lived on, and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned."

Harry was feeling like strangling the person, but he wasn't a unthinking kid himself, he kept his nervously excited persona on.

"It's happening again now. There have been three attacks and no one seems to know who's behind them. Who was it last time?"

"I can show you, if you like", came Riddle's reply. "You don't have to take my word for it. I can take you inside my memory of the night when I caught him."

Harry hesitated, his quill suspended over the diary. What did Riddle mean? How could he be taken inside somebody else's memory? He glanced nervously at the door to the dormitory, which was growing dark. When he looked back at the diary, he saw fresh words forming.

"Let me show you."

Who did he frame? Harry paused for a fraction of a second and then wrote two letters.

_OK _

The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a high wind, stopping halfway through the month of June. Harry saw that the little square for June thirteenth seemed to have turned into a minuscule television screen. His hands trembling slightly, he raised the book to press his eye against the little window, and before he knew what was happening, he was tilting forward; the window was widening, he felt his body leave his bed, and he was pitched headfirst through the opening in the page, into a whirl of color and shadow.

He felt his feet hit solid ground, and stood, shaking, as the blurred shapes around him came suddenly into focus.

He knew immediately where he was. This circular room with the sleeping portraits was Dumbledore's office — but it wasn't Dumbledore who was sitting behind the desk. A wizened, frail-looking wizard, bald except for a few wisps of white hair, was reading a letter by candlelight. Harry had never seen this man before.

The wizard folded up the letter with a sigh, stood up, walked past Harry without glancing at him, and went to draw the curtains at his window.

The sky outside the window was ruby-red; it seemed to be sunset. The wizard went back to the desk, sat down, and twiddled his thumbs, watching the door.

Harry looked around the office. No Fawkes the phoenix — no whirring silver contraptions. This was Hogwarts as Riddle had known it, meaning that this unknown wizard was Headmaster, not Dumbledore, and he, Harry, was little more than a phantom, completely invisible to the people of fifty years ago.

There was a knock on the office door.

"Enter," said the old wizard in a feeble voice.

A boy of about sixteen entered, taking off his pointed hat. A silver prefect's badge was glinting on his chest. He was much taller than Harry, but he, too, had jet-black hair.

"Ah, Riddle," said the Headmaster.

"You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?" said Riddle. He looked nervous, but it was an act, Harry could tell.

"Sit down," said Dippet. "I've just been reading the letter you sent me."

"Oh," said Riddle. He sat down, gripping his hands together very tightly.

"My dear boy," said Dipper kindly, "I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?"

"No," said Riddle at once. "I'd much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that — to that —"

"You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?" said Dippet curiously.

"Yes, sir," said Riddle, reddening slightly and Harry was startled at the genuine disdain and embarrassment he could feel.

"You are Muggle-born?"

"Half-blood, sir," said Riddle. "Muggle father, witch mother."

"And are both your parents —?"

"My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me — Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather."

Dipper clucked his tongue sympathetically.

"The thing is, Tom," he sighed, "Special arrangements might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances…"

"You mean all these attacks, sir?" said Riddle, and Harry's heart leapt, and he moved closer, scared of missing anything.

"Precisely," said the headmaster. "My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy_…_the death of that poor little girl_…_You will be safer by far at your orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking about closing the school. We are no nearer locating the — er — source of all this unpleasantness…"

Riddle's eyes had widened.

"Sir — if the person was caught — if it all stopped —"

"What do you mean?" said Dippet with a squeak in his voice, sitting up in his chair. "Riddle, do you mean you know something about these attacks?"

"No, sir," said Riddle quickly.

But Harry was sure it was the same sort of "no" that he himself had given Dumbledore.

Dippet sank back, looking faintly disappointed.

"You may go, Tom…"

Riddle slid off his chair and slouched out of the room. Harry followed him.

Down the moving spiral staircase they went, emerging next to the gargoyle in the darkening corridor. Riddle stopped, and so did Harry, watching him. Harry could tell that Riddle was doing some serious thinking. He was biting his lip, his forehead furrowed.

Then, as though he had suddenly reached a decision, he hurried off, Harry gliding noiselessly behind him. They didn't see another person until they reached the entrance hall, when a tall wizard with long, sweeping auburn hair and a beard called to Riddle from the marble staircase.

"What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?"

Harry gaped at the wizard. He was none other than a fifty-year-younger Dumbledore.

"I had to see the headmaster, sir," said Riddle.

"Well, hurry off to bed," said Dumbledore, giving Riddle exactly the kind of penetrating stare Harry knew so well. "Best not to roam the corridors these days. Not since…"

He sighed heavily, bade Riddle good night, and strode off. Riddle watched him walk out of sight and then, moving quickly, headed straight down the stone steps to the dungeons, with Harry in hot pursuit.

But to Harry's disappointment, Riddle led him not into the chamber, but to the very dungeon in which they had Potions with Severus. The torches hadn't been lit, and when Riddle pushed the door almost closed, Harry could only just see him, standing stock-still by the door, watching the passage outside.

It felt to Harry that they were there for at least an hour. All he could see was the figure of Riddle at the door, staring through the crack, waiting like a statue. And just when Harry had stopped feeling expectant and tense and started wishing he could return to the present, he heard something move beyond the door.

Someone was creeping along the passage. He heard whoever it was pass the dungeon where he and Riddle were hidden. Riddle, quiet as a shadow, edged through the door and followed, Harry tiptoeing behind him, forgetting that he couldn't be heard.

For perhaps five minutes they followed the footsteps, until Riddle stopped suddenly, his head inclined in the direction of new noises. Harry heard a door creak open, and then someone speaking in a hoarse whisper.

"C'mon_…_gotta get yeh outta here_…_C'mon now_…_in the box…"

There was something familiar about that voice_… _

Riddle suddenly jumped around the corner. Harry stepped out behind him. He could see the dark outline of a huge boy who was crouching in front of an open door, a very large box next to it.

"Evening, Rubeus," said Riddle sharply.

The boy slammed the door shut and stood up.

"What yer doin' down here, Tom?"

Hagrid! Riddle stepped closer.

"It's all over," he said. "I'm going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They're talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don't stop."

"'N at d'yeh —"

"I don't think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don't make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and —"

"It never killed no one!" said Hagrid, backing against the closed door. From behind him, Harry could hear a funny rustling and clicking.

"Come on, Rubeus," said Riddle, moving yet closer. "The dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered…"

"It wasn't him!" roared the boy, his voice echoing in the dark passage. "He wouldn'! He never!"

"Stand aside," said Riddle, drawing out his wand.

His spell lit the corridor with a sudden flaming light. The door behind flew open with such force it knocked him into the wall opposite. And out of it came something that made Harry let out a long, piercing scream unheard by anyone.

A vast, low-slung, hairy body and a tangle of black legs; a gleam of many eyes and a pair of razor-sharp pincers — Riddle raised his wand again, but he was too late. The thing bowled him over as it scuttled away, tearing up the corridor and out of sight. Riddle scrambled to his feet, looking after it; he raised his wand, but the huge boy leapt on him, seized his wand, and threw him back down, yelling, "NOOOOOO!"

The scene whirled, the darkness became complete; Harry felt himself falling and, with a crash, he landed spread-eagled on his four-poster in the Slytherin dormitory, Riddle's diary lying open on his stomach.

He sat up shaking; the diary felt like it has been tainted by the memory. But he knew it wouldn't do to have it lying around. The diary was enough to convince anyone who didn't know the truth. It would mean a lot of trouble for Hagrid.

He put it inside his trunk with a heavy set of wards.

A/N: Again, sorry for the delay. With the next chapter comes the time of revelations, till then


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: First of all, I am terribly sorry for dropping off the face of earth. No excuses whatsoever. So forgive me and enjoy the chapter, Er, hopefully (rubs the back of her head nervously). All the parts you recognize are taken from Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets.**

Harry woke up the next day with the sense of foreboding growing in the pit of his stomach. But he could not quite define it or pin point it with his instincts.

He left early from the dormitory; they had a Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. He picked up some rolls from the kitchens on his way to the library. He needed to talk to the founders.

A few minutes later Harry could be found pacing in front of the four portraits of the founders.

"I've learned the basics of Occlumency, Rowena." Harry began respectfully. "But I still cannot block Severus for more than a minute or two." He was disappointed at his lack of progress.

But Rowena had something different to say, "That's really great Harry, you have learned very fast. I didn't expect you to catch with it so easily."

"That's very good Harry." Godric said enthusiastically. Harry couldn't help but smile at him. No matter what, Godric knew how to cheer people up.

"Yes Harry, you did well." Salazar said, "However, you have still to learn legilimency, which is a bit different, and difficult and I don't know if Severus would be willing to teach you this time around."

Harry looked up at him, "What does legilimency have to do with this?"

"Well, here is this plan…" Salazar started.

"That's a good plan I suppose…" Harry stated hesitantly after half an hour of explaining.

"I still think it's too dangerous" Rowena said crossing her arms. Harry tried not to smile; Rowena would maintain her strict exterior even when she's concerned. "Besides, Severus wouldn't agree to teach him in the first place." She added.

"Yes, it'd be difficult to convince him." Harry agreed.

"Of course it'd be." Helga added, "Legilimency is no child's play. Reading one's mind is heavily frowned upon. I think you should talk to Severus about it."

"Have you lost your mind Ella" Godric exclaimed. "Severus will have no choice but to tell Dumbledore, Sabrina will be killed in no time."

"And I can't blame Severus if he does" Salazar sighed, "The safety of the student is of first and foremost importance in Hogwarts. That's how it has been, and that's how it should be. But I still cannot stand the thought of Sabrina…" he trailed off, shaking his head.

Harry continued his pacing, to do or not to do…

Draco woke up late in the morning, feeling too lazy to bother with breakfast. He lay in bed, assessing the situation. Crabbe and Goyle were both up. Crabbe practicing some wand movement, and by the sparks coming out of his wand, was doing it all wrong. Goyle was chewing the end of his quill, no doubt struggling over his homework.

He stifled a yawn and sat up, both Crabbe and Goyle looked up at the same time. "Good morning Draco" they said in unison. Sometimes Draco wondered if they shared the same brain. "Good morning, both of you" he replied, not looking up and went straight to the toilet.

He went down to the common room with his stack of readings to be done. He sat on a couch near the fire. It was left for him to take because most of the older slytherins were at breakfast still. That's how it always worked in Slytherin, the older or the powerful ones, Harry for ones, got to claim their seats first, then the others got to chose. Draco got the privilege of being a Malfoy, but it wasn't until Harry accepted him as a friend, that he was included in the privileged group. Draco shook his head and tried to concentrate on the book open in front of him. Suddenly there was a shift in magic around the common room, Draco looked up from his book, his eyes narrowed. But there was nothing, he was sitting on the couch near the fire, an older couple was whispering in a corner.

He looked back down to his book, trying to concentrate, only to sit up straighter a few moments later. There's no doubt, there were sounds coming from the boys dormitory, second years? Oh, no… not his… it's coming from Harry's. He frowned, Nott and Zabini had gone for breakfast, he's sure of it. And Harry hadn't been around, the boy's never around when he really needs to talk to him. He ignored to small voice that said but you never talk to him when he's around anymore.

He decided to go see what's going on, and blamed Ronald Weasley for his sudden Gryffindor tendencies. The dormitory was dark, someone was kneeling beside Harry's trunk, wand in hand. Who on earth would try to undo Harry's ward, Draco wondered. Only the fifth years and above would think of doing it, but even they tended to hesitate, knowing how painful and possibly crippling a mistake could be. He thought of sneaking up on the intruder, but whoever it was reacted faster than Draco could.

All he saw was a flash of red and heard a whispered _'Obliviate'_ , then darkness…

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

"Perfect Quidditch conditions!" said Wood enthusiastically at the Gryffindor table, loading the team's plates with scrambled eggs.

Soon breakfast was over and Ron and Hermione joined the rest of the Gryffindors to go to the field. Hermione, however, clapped a hand to her forehead just as they entered the entrance hall.

"Ron — I think I've just understood something! I've got to go to the library!"

And she sprinted away, up the stairs.

A few minutes later Harry joined Ron on his way to the pitch. "Hey Ron, where's Hermione?"

"Don't know mate" Ron shrugged, "Apparently she understood something and sprinted up to the library."

"What does she understand?" said Harry sharply, immediately on alert.

"Loads more than I do," said Ron, shaking his head.

"But why's she got to go to the library?"

"Because that's what Hermione does," said Ron, shrugging. "When in doubt, go to the library."

"You'd better get moving," said Ron. "It's nearly eleven — the match—"

The teams walked onto the field to tumultuous applause. Oliver Wood took off for a warm-up flight around the goal posts; Madam Hooch released the balls. The Hufflepuffs, who played in canary yellow, were standing in a huddle, having a last-minute discussion of tactics.

The match was just about to start when Professor McGonagall came half marching, half running across the pitch, carrying an enormous purple megaphone.

Harry's heart dropped like a stone.

"This match has been cancelled," Professor McGonagall called through the megaphone, addressing the packed stadium. There were boos and shouts. Oliver Wood, looking devastated, landed and ran toward Professor McGonagall without getting off his broomstick.

"But, Professor!" he shouted. "We've got to play — the cup —_Gryffindor _—"

Professor McGonagall ignored him and continued to shout through her megaphone:

"All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!"

Then she lowered the megaphone and beckoned Harry over to her.

"Potter, I think you'd better come with me…"

Wondering how she could possibly suspect him this time, Harry saw Ron detach himself from the complaining crowd; he came running up to them as they set off toward the castle. To Harry's surprise, Professor McGonagall didn't object.

"Yes, perhaps you'd better come, too, Weasley…"

Some of the students swarming around them were grumbling about the match being canceled; others looked worried. Harry and Ron followed Professor McGonagall back into the school and up the marble staircase. But they weren't taken to anybody's office this time.

"This will be a bit of a shock," said Professor McGonagall in a surprisingly gentle voice as they approached the infirmary. "There has been another attack_…_another _double _attack."

Harry's insides did a horrible somersault. Professor McGonagall pushed the door open and he and Ron entered_…_Madam Pomfrey was bending over a sixth-year girl with long, curly hair.

And on the bed next to her was —

"_Hermione_!" Ron groaned.

Hermione lay utterly still, her eyes open and glassy.

"They were found near the library," said Professor McGonagall. "I don't suppose either of you can explain this? It was on the floor next to them…"

She was holding up a small, circular mirror.

Harry and Ron shook their heads, both staring at Hermione, Harry's mouth was utterly dry, he swallowed.

"I will escort you back to Gryffindor Tower, Weasley" said Professor McGonagall heavily. "I need to address the students in any case. And I'll ask Severus to escort you, Potter."

"All students will return to their House common rooms by six o'clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities."

The Gryffindors packed inside the common room listened to Professor McGonagall in silence. She rolled up the parchment from which she had been reading and said in a somewhat choked voice, "I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. I would urge anyone who thinks they might know anything about them to come forward."

She climbed somewhat awkwardly out of the portrait hole, and the Gryffindors began talking immediately.

"That's two Gryffindors down, not counting a Gryffindor ghost, one Ravenclaw, and one Hufflepuff, " said the Weasley twins' friend Lee Jordan, counting on his fingers. "Haven't any of the teachers noticed that the Slytherins are all safe? Isn't it obvious all this stuff's coming from Slytherin? The Heir of Slytherin, the monster of Slytherin — why don't they just chuck all the Slytherins out?" he roared, to nods and scattered applause.

Percy Weasley was sitting in a chair behind Lee, but for once he didn't seem keen to make his views heard. He was looking pale and stunned.

Meanwhile, a very nervous Hagrid was almost waiting for something to happen, he could just feel it. Suddenly there was a knock in his door. He gathered his courage, and he was very brave, and flung open the door, his crossbow held ready.

"Good evening, Hagrid."

It was Dumbledore. He entered, looking deadly serious, and was followed by a second, very odd-looking man.

The stranger had rumpled gray hair and an anxious expression, and was wearing a strange mixture of clothes: a pinstriped suit, a scarlet tie, a long black cloak, and pointed purple boots. Under his arm he carried a lime-green bowler, Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.

Hagrid had gone pale and sweaty. He dropped into one of his chairs and looked from Dumbledore to Cornelius Fudge.

"Bad business, Hagrid," said Fudge in rather clipped tones. "Very bad business. Had to come. Four attacks on Muggle-borns. Things've gone far enough. Ministry's got to act."

"I never," said Hagrid, looking imploringly at Dumbledore. "You know I never, Professor Dumbledore, sir —"

"I want it understood, Cornelius, that Hagrid has my full confidence," said Dumbledore, frowning at Fudge.

"Look, Albus," said Fudge, uncomfortably. "Hagrid's record's against him. Ministry's got to do something — the school governors have been in touch —"

"Yet again, Cornelius, I tell you that taking Hagrid away will not help in the slightest," said Dumbledore. His blue eyes were full of a fire very rarely seen by people.

"Look at it from my point of view," said Fudge, fidgeting with his bowler. "I'm under a lot of pressure. Got to be seen to be doing something. If it turns out it wasn't Hagrid, he'll be back and no more said. But I've got to take him. Got to. Wouldn't be doing my duty —"

"Take me?" said Hagrid, who was trembling. "Take me where?"

"For a short stretch only," said Fudge, not meeting Hagrid's eyes. "Not a punishment, Hagrid, more a precaution. If someone else is caught, you'll be let out with a full apology —"

"Not Azkaban?" croaked Hagrid.

Before Fudge could answer, there was another loud rap on the door.

Dumbledore answered it.

Mr. Lucius Malfoy strode into Hagrid's hut, swathed in a long black traveling cloak, smiling a cold and satisfied smile. Fang started to growl.

"Already here, Fudge," he said approvingly. "Good, good…"

"What're you doin' here?" said Hagrid furiously. "Get outta my house!"

"My dear man, please believe me, I have no pleasure at all in being inside your — er — d'you call this a house?" said Lucius Malfoy, sneering as he looked around the small cabin. "I simply called at the school and was told that the headmaster was here."

"And what exactly did you want with me, Lucius?" said Dumbledore. He spoke politely, but the fire was still blazing in his blue eyes.

"Dreadful thing, Dumbledore," said Malfoy lazily, taking out a long roll of parchment, "but the governors feel it's time for you to step aside. This is an Order of Suspension — you'll find all twelve signatures on it. I'm afraid we feel you're losing your touch. How many attacks have there been now? Two more this afternoon, wasn't it? At this rate, there'll be no Muggle-borns left at Hogwarts, and we all know what an awful loss that would be to the school."

"Oh, now, see here, Lucius," said Fudge, looking alarmed, "Dumbledore suspended — no, no — last thing we want just now."

"The appointment — or suspension — of the headmaster is a matter for the governors, Fudge," said Mr. Malfoy smoothly. "And as Dumbledore has failed to stop these attacks —"

"See here, Malfoy, if Dumbledore can't stop them," said Fudge, whose upper lip was sweating now, "I mean to say, who can?"

"That remains to be seen," said Mr. Malfoy with a nasty smile. "But as all twelve of us have voted —"

Hagrid leapt to his feet, his shaggy black head grazing the ceiling.

'An' how many did yeh have ter threaten an' blackmail before they agreed, Malfoy, eh?" he roared.

"Dear, dear, you know, that temper of yours will lead you into trouble one of these days, Hagrid," said Mr. Malfoy. "I would advise you not to shout at the Azkaban guards like that. They won't like it at all."

"Yeh can' take Dumbledore!" yelled Hagrid, making Fang the boarhound cower and whimper in his basket. "Take him away, an' the Muggle-borns won' stand a chance! There'll be killin' next!"

"Calm yourself, Hagrid," said Dumbledore sharply. He looked at Lucius Malfoy.

"If the governors want my removal, Lucius, I shall of course step aside —"

"But —" stuttered Fudge.

"No!" growled Hagrid.

Dumbledore had not taken his bright blue eyes off Lucius Malfoy's cold gray ones.

"However," said Dumbledore, speaking very slowly and clearly so that none of them could miss a word, "you will find that I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me_…_Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."

"Admirable sentiments," said Malfoy, bowing. "We shall all miss your — er — highly individual way of running things, Albus, and only hope your successor will manage to prevent any — ah — killins."

He strode to the cabin door, opened it, and bowed Dumbledore out. Fudge, fiddling with his bowler, waited for Hagrid to go ahead of him, but Hagrid stood his ground, took a deep breath, and said carefully, "If anyone wanted ter find out some stuff, all they'd have ter do would be ter follow the spiders. That'd lead 'em right. That's all I'm sayin'."

Fudge stared at him in amazement.

"All right, I'm comin', said Hagrid, pulling on his moleskin overcoat. But as he was about to follow Fudge through the door, he stopped again and said loudly, "An' someone'll need ter feed Fang while I'm away."

The door banged shut and Fang started howling, scratching at the closed door.

A few minutes later the door opened and shut again, though no one could be seen coming or going out.

**A/N: Again sorry for the long wait, next chapter should be up sometime this weekend. Review, please?**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Hello, sorry I crossed my deadline, it took longer to write than I expected. The chapter is a bit smaller too. But I hope you enjoy.**

Harry walked back to the dorms after breakfast, he wanted to talk to Severus about teaching him legilimency. But he wasn't sure how to explain to Severus why he wanted to learn legilimency in the first place. But the common room was crowded, more than normal. Harry frowned, and walked over to the centre of the crowd. To his surprise, the crowd parted before him, somewhat uneasily. In the centre was Draco, half seated on the sofa, looking dazed.

"What happened, Draco?" Harry asked. Draco looked up, his gaze blank.

"He doesn't remember" Zabini answered, softly. Harry looked up, "Excuse me?"

"We found him in the floor of our dormitory, Flint enervated him, but he doesn't even remember why he got in there." Harry's eyes widened with alarm. He kneeled down, eye level with Draco, "Think carefully Draco, what is the last thing that you remember?"

Draco shook his head, "Going to bed last night…"

"He has been obliviated." Flint said, his tone thoughtful. He looked up at Harry, Blaise and Theodore in turn, "Since he was discovered in your dorm, be careful and go check your possessions for any loss. Report it to me. I'll go talk to professor Snape." Harry nodded and rushed back to his dorm.

He didn't have to go far into the room, his wards has been messed with. They were erected back, hastily, but he could find the loose ends very easily. He went over to his trunk and opened it with a flick of his wand, he didn't have to look for long, Tom Riddle's Diary was gone.

He came back down to the common room, Flint was still there, asking questions to students. From his expressions, he wasn't satisfied by the answers he was getting. "I checked my things, the intruder messed with my ward, but whoever it was, didn't take anything." Harry told him, he had already decided not to discuss about the diary with anyone. A lot of families belonged to the Dark Lord's side, some of them death eaters, Harry knew that very well.

Flint nodded absently, Harry slipped away from the common room and started for the chamber. But in the entrance hall was full with students, with house banners and scarves… oh, Quidditch match… oh, shit... no, it's between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Harry shook his head and joined the crowd to find Ron and Hermione. It's not as if anyone would be there in the castle anyway. And whoever it was leading Sabrina on, they won't try to lead her to the pitch.

He joined Ron on the pitch, but Hermione was nowhere to be seen, "Hey Ron, where's Hermione?" Harry asked, watching Neville cheering for his house team.

"Apparently she understood something and had to run to the library." Ron shrugged with a smile. Harry's heart dropped at that.

"What does she understand?" said Harry sharply, still looking around, hoping that Hermione would come join them.

"Loads more than I do," said Ron, shaking his head.

"But why's she got to go to the library?"

"Because that's what Hermione does," said Ron, shrugging. "When in doubt, go to the library."

Blood started to pound in his ears, surely enough, just as the match was going to start, McGonagall came running into the field, cancelling the match. He watched all the proceeding with a mask of calm and detachment. Hermione has been attacked along with another girl, a prefect apparently.

Harry had to wait for almost an hour in his invisibility cloak to gain access to the library. Almost all the teachers were assembled there, talking in a hushed and anxious tone. Harry could be very still when he wanted to be, but even then standing still for an entire hour was too much for the twelve year old. He was almost caught when Severus caught some movement from the corner of his eyes, but he started talking with Po-Professor Sprout.

At last he slipped through the portrait to the founders' library. "Someone stole the diary, and there has been another attack, well a dual attack if you ask for the specifics." He announced without a preamble. He didn't feel the need of pretenses in front of the founders, and Salazar always got to the point whenever he tried. But maybe it wasn't such a good idea this time. All four of them looked down at him astonished.

"We know about the attacks, the other portraits can't stop talking about it. But what is it about a diary?" Salazar asked his eyes sharp. He had already decided to tell Severus everything, he was extremely worried about the child. He didn't like the idea of talking about Harry behind his back. But the child needed to understand when to seek for assistance.

So Harry told them everything, from finding the diary, to what he deducted by watching the scenes Tom Riddle showed, to the theft this morning. They listened with rapt attention.

"I feel the Diary has something to with all this events. Draco told me something about a diary at the beginning of the year, all these events started after that. The attacks had stopped when the diary was with me. It was stolen this morning and there's been an attack right after that. I should have destroyed the diary when I could." Harry finished.

"That was a bit drastic of you, child. To go into a memory like that." Rowena said in a chiding tone, but Harry could tell that she was actually worried about him.

"Could he have harmed me in the memory?" he asked a bit worriedly.

"Well, perhaps not, we can't be sure without seeing the diary. But you didn't know that. It was foolish. He could have locked you in-"

"It's ok Ro, don't get angry." Godric interrupted, seeing a good lecture coming, "But Harry, really you should have known better. Now the matter at hand, you have been very brave Harry, you really are a remarkable child. But I really think it's time you inform one of the teachers."

"But we won't be able to save Sabrina then." Harry said desperately.

Salazar closed his eyes at that, it made him proud and sad at the same time to see Harry so protective of his familiar. But his brain kept saying, better Sabrina than the whole school, besides, the way things are going, very soon she won't be his Sabrina anymore.

"Go child, go talk to Severus, we need to discuss things. And tell him to teach you legilimency, tell him I told you so." He said to Harry at last.

Harry nodded and walked out of the room.

"I wish I was visiting the common-room portrait in the morning" Salazar murmured.

His nerve in frenzy, Harry ran to the second floor girls' lavatory. With a hastily muttered "Open, stairs" he descended down the steep stairs at a run. "Sabrina, Zudissa! Where are you?" There was no sound. The sense of foreboding came back full force. Maybe he was imagining it, but there was an odd sort of gloom here that he hadn't experienced except on his first day here. He had felt at home here in this chamber, the inner chambers and the library, the potions lab he had come to use almost as his own. But he didn't feel welcome here for some reason. The whole place had a repulsive dark quality to it. Something has happened, something very wrong has happened. "Zudi? Sabrina?" He called again, unnerved.

Usually he'd have heard a greeting by now. Sabrina and Zudissa had started to get along very well. Zudissa was smaller and younger, but she could see the outside world, so Sabrina had respect of sorts for he- Harry slipped on some slippery liquid… blood, it was blood. Heart pounding, Harry straightened out immediately, wand in his hand.

He didn't call for Sabrina this time, something bad has happened, his instincts were screaming. He didn't have to look for long. There she was, laying near one of the serpentine columns, in her own pool of blood, Zudissa, most clearly dead.

Harry took a step back, without thinking, then another, then another. His feet took him out of the chamber without his permission. He closed off the entrance, and then slid down the stone basin to sit at its base. Zudissa was gone. His cynical, confident familiar was gone. He didn't really consider the possibility of Sabrina harming Zudissa in one of her episodes… or was it the intruder? But Zudissa was capable of protecting herself against a human.

If only he hadn't lost the diary, if only he had decided to keep it on him all the time… the diary… that was the root of it, he was sure… Tom Riddle accused Hagrid. Hagrid's roosters were being killed, he had complained on one of the visits. If everything failed, Sabrina has to be killed, as much as it pained him to think about it. It felt like ages ago when he had argued vehemently for her life, why was he thinking different now? Was it because she had killed Zudissa? Harry felt awful just thinking about it.

But he will have to talk to Hagrid either way, if only as a backup plan… hopefully.

Severus Snape was pacing in his office. He had to see all the suspicious glares the slytherins were receiving from the other houses, especially the first years. He was being harsh, well, harsher than usual with his other first year students, but didn't they see, they were only children. They didn't deserve to be accused of petrifying people at the age of eleven.

But he was worried about Harry too. There were whispers among the older slytherins, how he was powerful beyond his age, how the Slytherin wards tended accept and adjust around him as if he was the rightful owner of them. They didn't yet know that Harry was a Parselmouth, but they seemed to be wary of him anyway. They seemed to think that if anyone among them can be the heir of Slytherin then it'd be Harry.

And now there has been another attack, the situation was getting bleaker by the minute. He had gone to check on his students after they were sent back to their dormitories and Harry wasn't there. He couldn't find the boy anywhere in the castle. What he's upto this time? Severus rubbed his face tiredly. He could be in danger at the moment. But he didn't know where to look. None of the portraits were of any help. Suddenly there was a sound of throat clearing form his wall, "Severus Snape, if I might talk to you for a moment?"

Severus turned and bowed immediately, "Of course, Lord Slytherin."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I'm horrible, I know. I almost abandoned the story, but a pm brought me up. Thanks to SlytherinLover143 and everyone who reviewed, favorite or alerted for the motivation. So here is the new chapter. **

A full minute passed after Salazar finished his story, and Severus was still speechless. He looked at the portrait blankly for a few more seconds, then abruptly walked upto his personal cabinet and downed a tumbler full of firewhiskey.

"Pardon me Lord Slytherin" Severus said at last, "but you are telling me that there is a basilisk residing in the depths of Hogwarts all this years, Harry knew about it and has been _friend_ with it since first year and now the basilisk is out with a blood thirst attacking whoever comes into its path."

Salazar nodded, "That's the matter in brief, yes."

Severus paced in his office, hands clasped in his back, face marred by a severe frown. Salazar waited patiently; it was hard to come to terms with so much of astonishing information all at once. Severus looked up at last, "But why are you telling me this now?"

If possible, Salazar became even graver, "It's because the situation is very grave now. Albus has been removed; they might close the school any moment now. And the only person who can help us is Harry."

"What?" Severus rounded on him sharply. "Why do you need a twelve year old to face a beast like that?"

Salazar suppressed a flinch, "I do not suggest that Harry face her alone. But he is the only one right now who can open the Chamber and can hope to talk to her."

"You still think the basilisk can be reasoned with?" Severus asked, shocked beyond measure. "And you want me to teach Harry legilimency so that he can go into its mind and see what's wrong? Even if you are right in the theory that someone or something is affecting its mind. Has anyone ever been into a basilisk's mind? Does anyone know how does it even work? And what if that something or someone affect Harry's mind? What if they trap him inside its mind?"

Severus stopped his ranting only to take another swig of his drink. "I understand Lord Slytherin this matter is of the most importance to you. I know, it's perhaps the first time you have visited a Head of the House. And it's the most natural for a wizard to be protective of his familiar. But don't you think the best way to solve the problem is to kill the basilisk?"

Salazar nodded, "Yes, that'd be the best way. But Harry has grown fond of Sabrina just as much as I am. And he wants to give her a chance. He's only twelve; it'd not do him well to slay someone he has got fond of. Maybe if he could stall her for a few moments, she could be legilimised. However it'd be most effective if Harry performs the legilimency."

Severus had calmed down enough to listen to Salazar. He nodded, "I understand what you are saying Lord Slytherin. But what if things go wrong? What if The Basilisk attacks Harry?"

"It will not come to that, I assure you. I have convinced Harry to have a backup plan, if things go wrong. Harry had managed to save some of the roosters the gamekeeper had." Salazar assured. "He has agreed to take them with him down there under a silencing charm. He will release the charm if he cannot control Sabrina."

"I will accompany Harry to the chamber." Severus announced at last.

Salazar nodded, "I'd prefer that too. We'll also have to deal with whoever it is controlling Sabrina. Harry won't be able to do that if he is to legilimize Sabrina successfully."

"I hope things go well, Lord Slytherin." Severus said somberly, "Because if something happens to Harry, another man will lose all respect to the name of Salazar Slytherin."

"The last thing I want for Harry is to be harmed, I assure you." Salazar said with equal seriousness and left the portrait.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV VVVVVVVV

Ron Weasley was worried; worried about Hermione in the hospital wing, worried that someone had attacked Draco in his own dorm, not that he'll ever say that aloud. But something happened in their first lesson, Transfiguration that drove the Chamber of Secrets out of their minds for the first time in weeks. Ten minutes into the class, Professor McGonagall told them that their exams would start on the first of June, one week from today.

"_Exams?" _howled Seamus Finnigan. "We're still getting exams?"

There was a loud bang behind Ron as Neville Longbottom's wand slipped, vanishing one of the legs on his desk. Professor McGonagall restored it with a wave of her own wand, and turned, frowning, to Seamus.

"The whole point of keeping the school open at this time is for you to receive your education," she said sternly. "The exams will therefore take place as usual, and I trust you are all studying hard."

Studying hard! It had never occurred to Ron that there would be exams with the castle in this state. There was a great deal of mutinous muttering around the room, which made Professor McGonagall scowl even more darkly.

"Professor Dumbledore's instructions were to keep the school running as normally as possible, she said. "And that, I need hardly point out, means finding out how much you have learned this year."

Ron looked down at the pair of white rabbits he was supposed to be turning into slippers. What had he learned so far this year? He couldn't seem to think of anything that would be useful in an exam.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV V

Meanwhile, Harry was spending every minute of his free time in the dungeons with Severus learning everything he could about legilimency. But Severus had a very strong shield and it was so ingrained in him to keep the shield erected, that he couldn't take it down even when he tried.

He could only get a glimpse when the walls in Severus' mind closed off and threw him out. They would both end up panting and sweating and tired beyond measure. But things were improving, and though Harry was yet to see anything he protected in his mind, Severus could tell that Harry was improving steadily in his probes and it was only a matter of time, time, which they didn't have.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV VVVVV

Three days before their first exam, Professor McGonagall made another announcement at breakfast.

"I have good news," she said, and the Great Hall, instead of falling silent, erupted.

"Dumbledore's coming back!" several people yelled joyfully.

"You've caught the Heir of Slytherin!" squealed a girl at the Ravenclaw table.

"Quidditch matches are back on!" roared Wood excitedly.

When the hubbub had subsided, Professor McGonagall said, "Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit."

There was an explosion of cheering.

Ron was looking happier than he'd looked in days, Harry felt uneasy.

He said to Harry. "Hermione'll probably have all the answers when they wake her up! Mind you, she'll go crazy when she finds out we've got exams in three days' time. She hasn't studied. It might be kinder to leave her where she is till they're over."

Just then, Ginny Weasley came over and sat down next to Ron. She looked tense and nervous, and Harry noticed that her hands were twisting in her lap.

"What's up?" said Ron, helping himself to more porridge.

Ginny didn't say anything, but glanced up and down the Gryffindor table with a scared look on her face.

"Spit it out," said Ron, watching her.

"I've got to tell you something," Ginny mumbled, carefully not looking at Harry.

"What is it?" said Harry.

Ginny looked as though she couldn't find the right words.

"_What?" _said Ron.

Ginny opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Harry leaned forward and spoke quietly, so that only Ginny and Ron could hear him.

"Is it something about the Chamber of Secrets? Have you seen something? Someone acting oddly?"

Ginny drew a deep breath and, at that precise moment, Percy Weasley appeared, looking tired and wan.

"If you've finished eating, I'll take that seat, Ginny. I'm starving, I've only just come off patrol duty."

Ginny jumped up as though her chair had just been electrified, gave Percy a fleeting, frightened look, and scampered away. Percy sat down and grabbed a mug from the center of the table.

"Percy!" said Ron angrily. "She was just about to tell us something important!"

Halfway through a gulp of tea, Percy choked.

"What sort of thing?" he said, coughing.

"I just asked her if she'd seen anything odd, and she started to say…"

"Oh — that — that's nothing to do with the Chamber of Secrets," said Percy at once.

"How do you know?" said Ron, his eyebrows raised.

"Well, er, if you must know, Ginny, er, walked in on me the other day when I was — well, never mind — the point is, she spotted me doing something and I, um, I asked her not to mention it to anybody. I must say, I did think she'd keep her word. It's nothing, really, I'd just rather—"

Harry had never seen Percy look so uncomfortable.

"What were you doing, Percy?" said Ron, grinning. "Go on, tell us, we won't laugh."

Percy didn't smile back.

"Pass me those rolls, Harry, I'm starving."

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

It was the next day just after the Defense Against Dark Arts class that Ron convinced Harry to go visit Hermione together. Harry had tried to visit her, but he could never go near or look at her face knowing he could have prevented this if only he could let Sabrina be killed, when she might end up dead anyway.

Madam Pomfrey let them in, but reluctantly.

"There's just no point talking to a petrified person," she said, and they had to admit she had a point when they'd taken their seats next to Hermione. It was plain that Hermione didn't have the faintest inkling that she had visitors, and that they might just as well tell her bedside cabinet not to worry for all the good it would do.

"Wonder if she did see the attacker, though?" said Ron, looking sadly at Hermione's rigid face. "Because if he sneaked up on them all, no one'll ever know…"

But then he noticed something in her right hand. It lay clenched on top of her blankets, and bending closer, he saw that a piece of paper was scrunched inside her fist.

Making sure that Madam Pomfrey was nowhere near, he pointed this out to Harry.

"Go on and get it out," Ron whispered, shifting his chair so that he blocked Harry from Madam Pomfrey's view.

Harry also wanted to know what Hermione has found out. What she knew. It was no easy task. Hermione's hand was clamped so tightly around the paper that Harry was sure he was going to tear it. While Ron kept watch he tugged and twisted, and at last, after several tense minutes, the paper came free.

It was a page torn from a very old library book. Harry smoothed it out eagerly and Ron leaned close to read it, too.

"_Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it." _

And beneath this, a single word had been written, in a hand Harry recognized as Hermione's. _Pipes_.

Harry's heart was beating wildly. Hermione solved it, she solved the mystery. He couldn't decide whether to like her or despise her for this.

Ron's eyes brightened up. It was as though somebody had just flicked a light on in his brain.

"Harry," he breathed. "This is it. This is the answer. The monster in the Chamber's a _basilisk _— a giant serpent!"

Harry looked up at the beds around him, not meeting his eyes. Ron went on excitedly,

"The basilisk kills people by looking at them. But no one's died — because no one looked it straight in the eye. Colin saw it through his camera. The basilisk burned up all the film inside it, but Colin just got Petrified. Justin_…_Justin must've seen the basilisk through Nearly Headless Nick! Nick got the full blast of it, but he couldn't die again_…_and Hermione and that Ravenclaw prefect were found with a mirror next to them. Hermione had just realized the monster was a basilisk. I bet you anything she warned the first person she met to look around corners with a mirror first! And that girl pulled out her mirror — and —"

Rons jaw had dropped.

"And Mrs. Norris?" he whispered eagerly.

He thought hard, picturing the scene on the night of Halloween.

"The water…" he said slowly. "The flood from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. I bet you Mrs. Norris only saw the reflection…"

He scanned the page in his hand eagerly. The more he looked at it, the more it made sense.

"…_The crowing of the rooster…is fatal to it"! _he read aloud. "Hagrid's roosters were killed! The Heir of Slytherin didn't want one anywhere near the castle once the Chamber was opened! _Spiders flee before it.! _It all fits!"

Ron figured it out, he isn't the chess champion for no reason, harry thought.

Ron suddenly grabbed Harry's arm.

"What're we going to do?" said Ron, whose eyes were flashing. "Should we go straight to McGonagall?"

"Let's go to the staff room," said Harry, feeling guilty and helpless, what to do now? "She'll be there in ten minutes. It's nearly break."

They ran downstairs. Not wanting to be discovered hanging around in another corridor, they went straight into the deserted staff room. It was a large, paneled room full of dark, wooden chairs. Harry and Ron paced around it, too excited to sit down. Harry tried to think of a solution that wouldn't involve casting spells on Ron, but he couldn't.

But the bell to signal break never came.

Instead, echoing through the corridors came Professor McGonagall's voice, magically magnified.

"All students to return to their House dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please."

Harry wheeled around to stare at Ron. "Not another attack? Not now?"

"What'll we do?" said Ron, aghast. "Go back to the dormitory?"

"No," said Harry, glancing around. There was an ugly sort of wardrobe to his left, full of the teachers' cloaks. "In here. Let's hear what it's all about. Then we can tell them what we've found out."

They hid themselves inside it, listening to the rumbling of hundreds of people moving overhead, and the staff room door banging open. From between the musty folds of the cloaks, they watched the teachers filtering into the room. Some of them were looking puzzled, others downright scared. Then Professor McGonagall arrived.

"It has happened," she told the silent staff room. "A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself."

Professor Flitwick let out a squeal. Professor Sprout clapped her hands over her mouth. Snape gripped the back of a chair very hard and said, "How can you be sure?"

"The Heir of Slytherin," said Professor McGonagall, who was very white, "left another message. Right underneath the first one. _'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.' _"

Professor Flitwick burst into tears.

"Who is it?" said Madam Hooch, who had sunk, weak-kneed, into a chair. "Which student?"

"Ginny Weasley," said Professor McGonagall.

Harry felt Ron slide silently down onto the wardrobe floor beside him.


	15. Chapter 15

"We shall have to send all the students home tomorrow," said Professor McGonagall. "This is the end of Hogwarts. Dumbledore always said…"

The staffroom door banged open again. For one wild moment, Harry was sure it would be Dumbledore. But it was Lockhart, and he was beaming.

"So sorry — dozed off — what have I missed?"

He didn't seem to notice that the other teachers were looking at him with something remarkably like hatred. Snape stepped forward.

"Just the man," he said. "The very man. A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last."

Lockhart blanched.

"That's right, Gilderoy," chipped in Professor Sprout. "Weren't you saying just last night that you've known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?"

"I — well, I —"sputtered Lockhart.

"Yes, didn't you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?" piped up Professor Flitwick.

"D-did I? I don't recall —"

"I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn't had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested," said Snape. "Didn't you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?"

Lockhart stared around at his stony-faced colleagues.

"I — I really never — you may have misunderstood —"

"We'll leave it to you, then, Gilderoy," said Professor McGonagall. "Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We'll make sure everyone's out of your way. You'll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free rein at last."

Lockhart gazed desperately around him, but nobody came to the rescue. He didn't look remotely handsome anymore. His lip was trembling, and in the absence of his usually toothy grin, he looked weak-chinned and feeble.

"V-very well," he said. "I'll — I'll be in my office, getting — getting ready."

And he left the room.

"Right," said Professor McGonagall, whose nostrils were flared, "that's got _him _out from under our feet. The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories."

The teachers rose and left, one by one.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV VVVVVV

Snape was pacing in the corridor, he could not find Harry. What if Harry had already gone inside? He will surely guess that the announcement has something to do with the Chamber of Secrets. But he will still have to collect the roosters, right? He cannot be roaming around the castle with a disillusioned rooster all the time, can he? After much consideration he decided to wait in front of the second floor girls' bathroom. He disillusioned himself and hid obscured in an alcove.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV VVVVVV

It was probably the worst day of Harry's entire life. He had to accompany Ron to the Gryffindor tower, though he was sure that Sabrina and whoever was controlling her will be too busy to make another victim. But he needed to go to the Chamber, if only Ron would leave him alone. With Hermione and Ginny attacked, Ron refused to let Harry out of his sight. He, Ron, Fred, and George sat together in a corner of the Gryffindor common room, unable to say anything to each other. Percy wasn't there. He had gone to send an owl to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, then shut himself up in his dormitory.

No afternoon ever lasted as long as that one, nor had Gryffindor Tower ever been so crowded, yet so quiet. Near sunset, Fred and George went up to bed, unable to sit there any longer.

"She knew something, Harry," said Ron, speaking for the first time since they had entered the wardrobe in the staff room. "That's why she was taken. It wasn't some stupid thing about Percy at all. She'd found out something about the Chamber of Secrets. That must be why she was —" Ron rubbed his eyes frantically. "I mean, she was a pure-blood. There can't be any other reason."

Harry was thinking the same thing. What could she possibly know? Suddenly he remembered a conversation with Draco on their way to Hogwarts. He said something about his father planning something, a journal and the Weasley family. The diary could be the one belonging to Tom Riddle, does that mean, Harry's heart skipped a beat at the thought, then started with the speed of the Hogwarts express.

"Harry" said Ron. "D'you think there's any chance at all she's not — you know —"

Harry didn't know what to say. He couldn't see how Ginny could still be alive.

"D'you know what?" said Ron. "I think we should go and see Lockhart. Tell him what we know. He's going to try and get into the Chamber. We can tell him where we think it is, and tell him it's a basilisk in there."

Because Harry wanted any chance to get inside the Chamber, he agreed. The Gryffindors around them were so miserable, and felt so sorry for the Weasleys, that nobody tried to stop them as they got up, crossed the room, and left through the portrait hole.

Darkness was falling as they walked down to Lockhart's office. There seemed to be a lot of activity going on inside it. They could hear scraping, thumps, and hurried footsteps.

Harry knocked and there was a sudden silence from inside. Then the door opened the tiniest crack and they saw one of Lockhart's eyes peering through it.

"Oh — Mr. Potter — Mr. Weasley —" he said, opening the door a bit wider. "I'm rather busy at the moment —if you would be quick —"

"Professor, we've got some information for you," said Harry, though he knew very well what Lockhart could really do. "We think it'll help you."

"Er — well — it's not terribly —" The side of Lockhart's face that they could see looked very uncomfortable. "I mean — well — all right —"

He opened the door and they entered.

His office had been almost completely stripped. Two large trunks stood open on the floor. Robes, jade-green, lilac, midnight blue, had been hastily folded into one of them; books were jumbled untidily into the other. The photographs that had covered the walls were now crammed into boxes on the desk.

"Are you going somewhere?" said Harry, raising his eyebrow in a remarkably Snape-like fashion.

"Er, well, yes," said Lockhart, ripping a life-size poster of himself from the back of the door as he spoke and starting to roll it up. "Urgent call — unavoidable — got to go —"

"What about my sister?" said Ron jerkily.

"Well, as to that — most unfortunate —" said Lockhart, avoiding their eyes as he wrenched open a drawer and started emptying the contents into a bag. "No one regrets more than I —"

"You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" said Harry. "You can't go now! Not with all the Dark stuff going on here!" Not without showing what a fraud you are.

"Well — I must say — when I took the job —" Lockhart muttered, now piling socks on top of his robes. "nothing in the job description — didn't expect —"

"You mean you're _running away_?" said Ron disbelievingly. "After all that stuff you did in your books —"

"Books can be misleading," said Lockhart delicately.

"You wrote them!" Harry shouted.

"My dear boy," said Lockhart, straightening up and frowning at Harry. "Do use your common sense. My books wouldn't have sold half as well if people didn't think _I'd _done all those things. No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He'd look dreadful on the front cover. No dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a hairy chin. I mean, come on —"

"So you've just been taking credit for what a load of other people have done?" said Harry incredulously.

"Harry, Harry," said Lockhart, shaking his head impatiently, "it's not nearly as simple as that. There was work involved. I had to track these people down. Ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn't remember doing it. If there's one thing I pride myself on, it's my Memory Charms. No, it's been a lot of work, Harry. It's not all book signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long hard slog."

He banged the lids of his trunks shut and locked them.

"Let's see," he said. "I think that's everything. Yes. Only one thing left."

He pulled out his wand and turned to them.

"Awfully sorry, boys, but I'll have to put a Memory Charm on you now. Can't have you blabbing my secrets all over the place. I'd never sell another book —"

Harry reached his wand just in time. Lockhart had barely raised his, when Harry bellowed, "_Expelliarmus!_"

Lockhart was blasted backward, falling over his trunk; his wand flew high into the air; Ron caught it, and flung it out of the open window.

"Shouldn't have let Professor Snape teach us that one," said Harry furiously, kicking Lockhart's trunk aside. Lockhart was looking up at him, feeble once more. Harry was still pointing his wand at him.

"What d'you want me to do?" said Lockhart weakly. "I don't know where the Chamber of Secrets is. There's nothing I can do."

"You're in luck," said Harry, forcing Lockhart to his feet at wandpoint. "We think _we _know where it is. _And _what's inside it. Let's go."

They marched Lockhart out of his office and down the nearest stairs, along the dark corridor where the messages shone on the wall, to the door of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

They sent Lockhart in first. Harry was pleased to see that he was shaking.

Moaning Myrtle was sitting on the tank of the end toilet.

"Oh, it's you," she said when she saw Harry. "What do you want this time?"

"To ask you how you died," said Ron.

Myrtle's whole aspect changed at once. She looked as though she had never been asked such a flattering question.

"Ooooh, it was dreadful," she said with relish. "It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a _boy _speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then —" Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. "I _died_."

"How?" said Ron.

"No idea," said Myrtle in hushed tones. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away…" She looked dreamily at Harry. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses."

"Where exactly did you see the eyes?" said Harry despite knowing about it more than Myrtle did.

"Somewhere there," said Myrtle, pointing vaguely toward the sink in front of her toilet.

Harry and Ron hurried over to it. Lockhart was standing well back, a look of utter terror on his face.

It looked like an ordinary sink. Ron examined every inch of it, inside and out, including the pipes below. And then Harry saw it: Scratched on the side of one of the copper taps was a tiny snake.

"That tap's never worked," said Myrtle brightly as he tried to turn it.

"Harry," said Ron. "Say something. Something in Parseltongue."

"But —" Harry thought hard. There was nothing to it. Ginny has been taken inside, if he doesn't do anything right now, he'll be responsible for her death.

"Open up," he said.

Except that the words weren't what Ron heard; a strange hissing had escaped Harry, and at once the tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. Next second, the sink began to move; the sink, in fact, sank, right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide enough for a man to slide into.

Harry heard Ron gasp and looked up again. He had made up his mind what he was going to do.

"I'm going down there," he said. "There is nothing you two can do down there. I'm the only Parselmouth here, you'll be more of a responsibility."

No one noticed an invisible presence behind them.


	16. Chapter 16

Hello, my readers Know apology is good enough. First I update after God knows how many month, then this is not a real chapter. But I'm in dire need of your feedback. After losing 3 drafts and all my inspiration, I'm starting up again. I have a half finished draft for the last chapter. But I've recieved many reviews as how I've been sticking to the original books and sometimes borrowing lines from them which I don't deny. So my question is, would you like me to finish the story as it is, or would you like me to redo it with hopefully a much more original plot? Please let me know in reveiws and I'll try not to make you wait as long as I've been doing. 


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